


A Splendid Bargain

by CartoonJessie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Wild West AU, Wild West AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CartoonJessie/pseuds/CartoonJessie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Rumbelle Wild West AU] When Belle’s father dies in a fire, she loses her family and her home in one night. Though Granny’s Saloon is eager to take her in, Belle does not look forward to a life of prostitution. To the surprise and jealousy of all of Storybrooke, the town’s richest bachelor takes an interest in her. And when mister Gold makes her an offer with nothing but the best intentions in mind, he awakens some of his own demons and finds out that Miss French is perhaps more than he had bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreatine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreatine/gifts).



> A gift to the marvelous Dreatine - written for the Rumbelle Christmas In July gift exchange on Tumblr. I will upload at least one chapter a day, and all should be posted by July 28th. Enjoy!

It had been a while since mister Gold had attended a funeral of one of his tenants, years perhaps… But he had not been able to sit still today, not while he knew the funeral was being held. He could not help but feel sorry for the man’s death.  
Maurice French had been a kind man – a good tenant who had always paid his rent on time – and his death had been a horrifying one. The man had deserved so much better, but he had died in the most painful way, being burned alive in his own home.  
Imagining the sight of the house aflame in the middle of the night, or the sound of mister French’s screams as he was dying was horrific enough, and as he entered the church and heard a soft sobbing from the front row, he felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. The poor daughter sat all by herself. No doubt that the horror he was imagining was an actual memory in the girl’s mind.  
The tap of his cane echoed through the church as he headed to a seat on the last row, eyeing the other people that were present there. He was surprised that it was such a small turnout, even if he had known that Maurice French had been somewhat of a hermit.  
The place was nearly completely empty. It was a Thursday, and so most people in Storybrooke were probably going about their business. Reverend Nolan was preparing the altar. His wife Mary Margaret was missing though – most likely too busy teaching the children in the school besides the church. They probably hadn’t even known mister French or his daughter very well. Mister Gold could not remember them ever attending a service, not one he had attended at least.  
Another attendant of the funeral sneezed suddenly – the sound echoing through the small building. It was Mister Clark, owner of the general store. He pulled a handkerchief from his sleeves and loudly blew his nose, causing mister Gold to cringe in disapproval.  
For years, Mister Clark had done business with Maurice French, buying his flowers and selling them in the local general store in the center of town. He had made weekly visits to the quaint little cottage a few miles from the Midwest town center itself, traveling by horse and cart to get all the flowers and plants to his store and to return with food and other necessities for mister French and his daughter.  
As he stared at the back of the girl, he wondered when he had last seen her. Perhaps six years ago? He could remember collecting the rent one month, at a moment that Maurice French had been collecting some wood in the nearby forest. The girl had been a teenager then, hardly more than a child, and so very small for her age. She had offered him a seat by the fire – as politely as could be expected from someone who hardly ever had visitors – and then she had left him while she had ran off into the forest, looking for her father. He hadn’t even seen her enter again, but had been helped by Maurice French, who had eagerly paid his rent and had insisted upon showing him his garden. He remembered it well.  
But as he looked at the back of the girl in the front row, he only felt sympathy for her. She had not just lost her father – she had lost her home as well. He could not help but wonder if she had any family left. Her mother had died about ten years earlier. Could it be that the girl was already twenty years old then? For she had been about ten when that had happened.  
Surely someone was taking care of her, or she would not have that black dress to wear.  
Rumor had quickly spread among the inhabitants of Storybrooke that the house had burned down in the middle of the night, and the young lady Belle had only been able to escape in her nightgown, forced to stand outside and watch as the entire place went up in flames before her father could escape. The trauma had to be horrible to her.  
Mister Gold certainly hoped she was not as alone in the world as he had been when his father had died.  
Twenty years earlier, it had been him who had sat on his own on the first row in this very church. It had been one of reverend Nolan’s first funerals, and only a handful of people had been present. Mary Margaret had been there – that was before she had been married to the reverend though – as well as Mister Clark, who had been just a boy back then, sent by his parents to pay his respects to one of their old customers.  
But it had not been traumatic for him to attend his father’s funeral. Malcolm Gold had been a rich man, but a very cold man as well. He had died a natural death, quick and painless – a rare gift in this cruel world – and the reason his heart had ached that day was because he had never felt so utterly alone. But at least he had still had his home – and more money than ever before. He could not help but wonder if Miss French had been left with any fortune at all.  
As the reverend began with the service, mister Gold tried to focus on the words that were being spoken, but he found himself unable to. David Nolan wasn’t a particularly eloquent reverend, and most of his speeches were rather uninspiring and dull. Gold wasn’t listening, and he wondered if anyone actually was. Miss French was still crying, her shoulders shaking with each sob and he watched her back for a good while, feeling a sympathy for her he did not often feel for his fellow townsmen.  
Perhaps the sentiment would pass once he spoke to her after the service, but for now he cared more about her than he had for anyone in the past decade.  
It was an understatement to say he was a solitary figure as well.  
“Would anyone like to say some words to remember Maurice French today?” reverend Nolan asked, and it was like the question brought him back to his own father’s funeral. No one had gotten up to say anything that day. Everyone had known what kind of a bastard Malcolm Gold had been, but this was not his own father. This was Maurice French. A good man – a lovable man, yet a lonely one at the same time, just like him.  
He found himself leaning on his cane as he rose from his seat, not missing the surprised gaze on the reverend’s face as he started heading towards the front of the small church, each tap of his cane echoing around him, and as he looked at the woman’s back, he noticed how she was hearing that tapping sound, freezing because of it, waiting for the words that were to follow.  
As mister Gold stopped and turned by the side of the altar, he carefully looked at his small audience. He was glad it wasn’t any bigger, for he was not a showman at all, and he surely would have felt very nervous if more eyes had lingered on him.  
As he carefully looked at the young woman, his breath hitched for a moment. Though it was obvious she had been crying, she was beautiful – more beautiful than he had ever figured anyone in isolation could grow up to be. Fair skin, curls that looked as soft as silk and lips that drew his attention the moment he looked at them – he wasn’t even sure why. Yet she looked so sad, so confused by his desire to talk right now, but he found that he could not stop himself. Not hearing any good thoughts about his own father had left him convinced that his father had been nothing but a monster after all. He would not want for a single bad thought about her father to enter this young woman’s mind.  
Maurice French deserved much better than that.  
“I only knew Maurice French as my tenant,” he started carefully, casting his eyes down as he gathered his courage. It certainly helped to remind himself that he owned most of Storybrooke, and that if anyone disrespected him for what he said today, he could just evict them. “For the past twenty years, I saw him about once every month to collect the rent. I’d be lying if I said we were ever friends – but even if our relationship was strictly business, it was easy to see that he was a wonderful man with a big heart.”  
As he glanced at Miss French and saw her sniff and nod in approval, he felt his courage increase. She was agreeing with him, and so he decided to trust in his judgement and continue.  
“He was a solitary figure – he would not come to town if he could avoid it – always working in his gardens instead. But he was generous – sometimes offering plants and flowers to those that passed by his cottage without expecting anything in return. I still have roses that he imported to Storybrooke growing in my own back garden, and I’m pretty sure that the roses around the church are also ones that he grew and introduced to this town. Even though so little people knew Maurice French in this town, he did make it a better place – and he’s the one responsible for so many patches of flowers we find all around here. He added beauty to this town. And though everyone contributes in their own way, men like Maurice are in short supply. I will miss his kindness most of all.”  
Feeling like he had nothing else to say, he awkwardly looked to the reverend, who said “Amen”, which was softly repeated by the others present in the church.  
As he headed back to his seat, his eyes locked with those of miss French once more, and she shot him a grateful half-smile, so sad but sweet at the same time. He could not help but return it, and strangely enough it felt like he had made some meaningful connection with that simple smile. It certainly preoccupied his mind throughout the rest of the funeral, and when it was over and everyone went outside, he slowly headed outside as well, watching how Mister Clark offered Belle his condolences – just two simple words – before he headed back to his store. The reverend then also spoke a few words to her, putting his hands on her shoulders as he talked to her, trying to inspire hope and faith into her, and after she nodded, he returned back inside.  
Now mister Gold slowly headed towards her, a nervous knot in his stomach as he wondered if perhaps he had misinterpreted their earlier gaze. After all, the girl was in mourning and processing a trauma. It was unlikely that there was an actual bond between them. He was imagining things, surely.  
But as he approached her and she looked up, he saw how her sad expression changed into a little smile – perhaps only for him.  
“Miss French,” he greeted her softly.  
“Mister Gold,” she replied gracefully. “Thank you for your kind words about my father… and…” She looked a little nervous all of a sudden, casting her eyes down. “And I hope you will forgive him for what happened to your property… I am so sorry your house burned down, I…”  
He took her hand in an instinct, shutting her up before she could continue, and she looked at him in confusion.  
“Miss French, by all means, do not feel bad for what happened to the cottage. That was completely out of your control – or your father’s. These things unfortunately happen,” he tried to ease her mind.  
“If I need to repay you…” she started, but he raised his hand as a sign for her to stop talking.  
“Please, Miss French, you don’t. Do not worry about this. I want to assure you that I do not expect you to repay me the worth of the cottage. The land is still mine, and in the future, I might find a new use for it. But as for now, I do not wish for you to worry about that. You don’t owe me anything. Accidents happen.”  
As that burden fell down her shoulders, she suddenly started sobbing again, this time more from relief than from grief, and as he gently touched her shoulder to console her, he was surprised when she hugged him and rested her head underneath his chin, looking for the one kind of comfort he was very uncomfortable giving.  
With his mouth slightly open and his hand trembling, he softly put it on her back, gently rubbing over the fabric of her black dress, gulping nervously as he found this all to be so strange to him.  
He was a solitary man, and he could not remember the last time he had held anyone so close. It left him feeling a bit confused and out of place. Yet at the same time he was aware that he liked it, and he was afraid to hug her any tighter, afraid to break her or scare her away.  
As she broke the hug again, part of him was relieved though another part really hoped he had not disappointed her at the same time. He would not have liked it if she had only separated from him because she disliked his hug – strange as that sounded. Secretly, he hoped he hadn’t done anything wrong.  
Fearing that she would bid him goodbye now, he was surprised by her words instead.  
“Would you like to walk me into town, mister Gold?”  
He knew that she asked him this for her own safety. Storybrooke wasn’t such a dangerous city to Wild West standards, but a beautiful young women like her could run into the town drunks and be in a whole world of trouble if she had no one by her side.  
“Of course,” he replied – a little breathless that she entrusted him with her protection. It was a boost to his ego that he had seldom received.  
Offering her his arm, he could not help but smile as she took it, even if the look on her face was still one of sadness.  
As they left the church behind to head to the main street, mister Gold was at a loss for words. Luckily, Miss French wasn’t.  
“I seem to recall that you live somewhere on the edge of town?”  
She seemed curious, and mister Gold nodded. “Indeed. Not so very far from Main Street, actually. If you follow it and head to the edge of the forest, there are a few houses there. That’s where I live.”  
“The houses are all yours?” Belle wondered curiously.  
“Yes, they are,” he admitted shyly. “I only live in one of them. Then another house is for my assistant, mister Dove. And the tailor, Jefferson, and his daughter Grace live in another one. And then there are some stables which mister Dove looks after too. We’re like a small community in that way.”  
“Sounds nice,” the young woman said in a dreamy tone, and mister Gold could not help but wonder again where she was staying. Part of him wanted to ask her to come live with them in their small community, but another part was too afraid of being rejected. Not to mention that his thoughts were rash and erratic – he wasn’t a teenager – far from it, yet something about the young lady’s presence made him feel different from usual.  
He spotted many eyes on them as he guided her over Main Street with her arm linked in his. Doctor Whale seemed a little thrown off, as did Jefferson as he was carrying a beautiful red dress to Granny’s Saloon. He nearly tripped on the stairs as he was unable to take his eyes off the odd couple.  
When Miss French suddenly stopped him in his walk, he was confused, but she smiled sadly as she said: “Thank you for escorting me, mister Gold. It’s much appreciated.”  
Confused about the sudden end to their very short walk, he waved it off.  
“No problem, Miss French. It was my pleasure.”  
She softly pinched his arm before she let go of him, and he held his breath as he watched her walk away. He was so dumbstruck that he did not realize what building she had entered, but as he saw Jefferson tip his hat to her on his way out of Granny’s saloon, his eyes grew large.  
The saloon.  
She was staying with the other girls of pleasure.  
He stood in terror for a few moments, before a horse and cart approached and he had to get out of the way, slowly resuming the walk to his own home. But with each step, it was as if his bum leg was becoming more of a drag, getting heavier and sorer with each thought of the beautiful young girl forced into a life of prostitution. Could he truly let this happen?


	2. Chapter 2

Upon her return to the saloon at midday, several of the girls came to see how she was. They had already apologized earlier that day for not attending the service, but the truth was that most of them were not welcome in the church, and if reverend Nolan had learned of the life she would soon lead, he would not have allowed her at the funeral either.  
“There weren’t many people there,” Belle admitted shyly, still getting used to the attention of so many people. Her life had been so isolated that it was a strange thing indeed to have a group of girls surround her and be interested in her.   
“Well, I don’t think you had many acquaintances. I didn’t even know of your existence and I’ve lived here for all my life,” Red admitted. She was probably the most desired girl of the saloon – tall, lean, with a nice cleavage, beautiful brown hair, a pretty face and a gorgeous wide smile. Her red lipstick matched her red dress and apparently she had a reputation among most travelers in the Wild West.   
Perhaps it was also because she was Granny’s granddaughter that she managed to get the spotlight so many nights.   
Belle also found that Emma was a beautiful young woman. She had lived her entire life as an orphan and when she had traveled to Storybrooke at the age of eighteen, she had soon been employed in the Saloon. She didn’t overdo it with make-up and looked more like a shy neighbor girl than a prostitute, but she had many regular customers that told her all their secrets – and she kept them, which was the most surprising thing about it. She was quiet and patient, but she also knew how to defend herself if needed, and Belle felt nothing but respect for her.   
“Just because no one knows you, doesn’t mean you’re not worth knowing,” Emma said gently. “I’m certain that you’ll have a lot to offer that the people of Storybrooke will be grateful for.”  
Belle gulped. Though Emma tried to bring it very positively, Belle realized she would have to let men have a way with her body in order to make some money and survive.   
Mulan was the next to speak up, also trying to lighten Belle’s spirit.   
“When my father died, I was also taken in by Granny and the girls,” she tried to compare their situations. “I remember being terrified my first nights, but it’s really not so bad. The men of Storybrooke aren’t the worst, and in time you’ll even learn to enjoy the strangers that pass by every now and then. And I’m sure they’ll be lining up for you the first weeks. They like a new toy, you know. You can easily overcharge your first nights, make sure you get some rest and get used to it. But it’s a nice way to make a living – earns more than most jobs in this town anyway, for hardly any work at all.”   
“Don’t ever settle for less than a dollar a night,” Granny suddenly spoke up from behind the counter as she was chopping up vegetables for her famous stew. “Some slackers will try to convince you to spend the night with them for less than that, but they’re not worth it. They either pay a dollar or more, or they can go to some other Saloon. And have them pay you in advance whenever you can – you wouldn’t be the first girl here that would have a guy leave her without paying.” As Granny narrowed her eyes and looked in the direction of Lily, who was sitting in a corner of the room, the young woman objected.   
“It was only once!” the dark-haired young woman protested loudly. “Jeez, woman, when are you ever going to let that go? That was four years ago!”  
The girls laughed, apparently amused by that reaction, but Belle could only smile sadly. The idea of selling her own body was still so strange to her and she doubted that she would be able to get used to it anytime soon.   
“By the way, Belle, Jefferson left a dress for you in your crib. You should try it on if you can,” Red said eagerly. “I want to see it.”  
“Me too,” Mulan added quickly, clapping her hands together.  
Though Belle was still very shy, she nodded and supposed she could try it out. It wasn’t common to wear anything but black in the months after a family member had died, but then again, turning to prostitution wasn’t common either.   
She headed to her crib – it was what the girls called her new home, a small room on the first floor with a single window, a comfortable bed, a cupboard with fresh linens and a small boudoir with a mirror in front of it and a stool to sit on. It was all very basic, and the one rack she had was empty save for two candles that she could light at night. She planned on spending her first earnings on some books to read.  
The red dress that Jefferson had left on her bed was beautiful though, and as Belle changed into it, she felt more like a princess than like a prostitute.   
As a child she had often dreamed of having gorgeous dresses like that – even if there had been no use for that – and as she headed down the stairs again, she received many compliments and looks of approval from the other girls.  
“Let me do your hair,” Red suggested.   
“I can do your nails, if you like,” Mulan added.  
“I might have some red lipstick I never use,” Emma continued. “I believe it’s the same shade of red as that dress… You should try it.”  
Belle nodded, not minding the attention of the girls. It kept her thoughts off of her loss and it made her feel like she still had people in her life that cared for her. It was a nice feeling, especially since she had the tendency to wallow in self-pity whenever she was on her own. But by being with the other girls, she felt like she had a family, even while the reality was quite the opposite.  
As she let the other girls pamper her, more customers started to come in. As it was still rather early, the men seemed more interested in a meal and a talk than they were in a shag, and those men that showed interest in Belle were told by the girls that she was still inexperienced and would not just sell herself to anyone for a dollar a night just yet. Some of them replied with: “I’ll book you for a night when you’re a bit cheaper then…” Others insisted: “How about a dollar for ten minutes then, love?”  
It was something to which Belle didn’t know how to reply, and she simply smiled awkwardly, inwardly screaming for help. Red noticed her unease, but she did not blame Belle for it, and asked the men to leave her alone for now.   
Red had grown up in the saloon and had had her first customer at the age of 16 – after months of begging for it, strange as that sounded. But she knew that Belle had lived a very isolated life and that she had never set foot in the saloon until this week – she had hardly spoken to more than a handful of men in her life and though she was well-read, she still didn’t seem to understand the way the world turned. To Red, it was an endearing quality.   
“How about we take a stroll through the saloon?” Red suggested as some men went to the bar to get some drinks. “It’s a good way to draw the attention of the men, to get them to notice you. They have spotted your lovely face already, but they wouldn’t mind seeing more of your curves, for example.”  
Belle really did not like the feeling of being on display like that, but deciding to be brave, she nodded.   
“Alright,” she said softly, and as Red offered her her arm, she gladly took it.   
Red hadn’t been wrong. As they started walking around the saloon, men did look at them. Belle didn’t know where to look precisely, to which Red remarked: “Don’t worry about looking shy, Belle. That’s totally your right. Don’t be ashamed of it. It’s what many of them like as well, and you should feel however you want to feel. Own it.”  
Those words however did not really relax her. The opposite was rather true, and Belle admitted: “It just doesn’t feel right to me… Everything has been happening so fast and I… I wish I could get more time but I know I can’t. It would be ungrateful and I do want to earn a living too – just… I’m not ready for it yet…”  
Red squeezed Belle’s arm assuredly. “Don’t put so much stress on yourself, sweetie. Sometimes it’s better to just let it happen. Pick a good partner. I can help you with that. Some of them are really gentle and will do everything to make you feel at ease. A few others – not so much. But that’s what you have me for. I’ll help you pick one. And it doesn’t have to be tonight. Just let them get used to seeing you around here for now. Let them look. They will invest when you are ready for it.”  
As they walked by the door of the saloon, Belle startled a little when the door opened right beside them and she recognized the man that stepped in, his cane tapping rather loudly on the wooden floor, drawing the attention of several people in the bar.   
When he noticed Belle, however, he stopped for a moment, his breath hitching in his throat as he saw her metamorphosis. Belle felt her heart beat in her throat at the same time, terribly afraid of his judgement. She had felt such gratitude for him earlier that day, such affection for his kind words. She would hate the idea that she disappointed him now.   
“Miss French,” he said after a few moments of awkward silence, ignoring Red’s suspicious look. After thinking for a moment what he could say, he added: “You look lovely tonight…”  
Belle felt a bit of relief, though she wasn’t completely relaxed yet and she could not hide her blush. As much as she feared his rejection, she wanted to make an effort to talk to him. Of all people in the room, at least he already had her affection.   
“Thank you, you look handsome too,” she replied gently, causing Red to raise her eyebrows in surprise. The girl had not expected Belle to flirt back so soon – least of all with mister Gold.   
But to Belle, it was the truth – she wasn’t even trying to flirt. But if he complemented her looks, she would complement him back.   
None was more surprised than mister Gold though, who was wondering for a moment if she was actually serious, but he spotted no lie in her tone.   
“D-do you come here often?” Belle wondered, blushing because she felt like the question itself was an invasion on his privacy. Why would it be any of her business if he came here for companionship every now and then? Still, she found herself to be rather curious on the matter.   
“A few times a week,” he admitted without hesitating. “The food is overpraised, in my opinion, but still better than what they’re serving at Cruella’s. I can swear that she processes dogs in her meat pies. She has a dozen puppies each year, yet the amount of dogs stays the same. Something just ain’t right.”  
Red looked disgusted, but Belle actually giggled, her sense of humor a little darker than people expected, and even mister Gold seemed surprised that she enjoyed his remark.   
“W-would you like to join me at the table?” he asked Belle, but as he realized Red was there too, he said: “You too, of course. Have the two of you eaten anything yet? I was thinking of ordering some stew.”  
“I’m good,” Red replied, but she quickly added: “But I know Belle hasn’t eaten yet today. Are you sure you don’t want to eat something?”  
Belle hated to be ambushed like that, but she nodded. “Alright… I suppose I should try to eat a bit.”  
“It’s on me,” mister Gold assured her. “I will place an order. Why don’t you take a seat? Over there in the corner, please. It’s where I usually sit.”  
As Belle and Red headed in the direction of his usual table, mister Gold headed to the bar to order. Red squeezed Belle in her arm again. “I hardly believe it myself, but he seems to like you,” she whispered.  
“You think so?” she asked, her heart skipping a beat. “Is that so unusual?”  
“Are you kidding me? He has never shown interest in any of us, not like he just did in you.”  
“But he’s just buying me a meal,” Belle replied weakly. “Do you think he wants to… you know… spend the night?”  
Red bit her lip as she shook her head in thought. “It would be a first time…”  
As she took a seat, Belle did the same, and they both remained quiet for a few moments, before Belle asked: “But then he only comes here to eat?”  
“And to play cards, sometimes,” Red added. “But he’s loaded – we all know that. He tips us on slow nights – and only then… It’s like he does it on purpose, to make sure we don’t get too heavy a loss. He would be a good catch, that’s for sure. I know many have tried to seduce him before, without any luck.”  
“And you?” Belle wondered curiously, which caused Red to laugh.   
“I know a lost cause when I see one. He has never looked at me the way he just looked at you. Did you know him well before you ended up here?”  
“Not at all,” she shyly admitted. “But he said nice words at my father’s funeral. I feel like he’s a kind man.”  
Red shot Belle an incredulous gaze. “Kind? Can’t say I’ve heard that word associated with him in the past… Would you like me to leave you alone with him? Or would you feel safer if I stuck around?”  
“I suppose I wouldn’t mind talking to him on my own,” she said honestly. “I do feel comfortable around him.”   
“That’s very important,” Red said. “It might not be bad if you would decide to spend your first night with him. Especially if you feel like there is a link between the two of you. Though I’m not sure if he’s a good lover – we don’t know much about him when it comes to that subject.”   
As mister Gold approached with two plates in his hands, limping awkwardly with his cane stuck underneath his shoulder, Belle quickly got up from her seat to take both plates from him.   
“Oh, please, do let me help you,” she insisted kindly, taking their dinner from his hands and bringing it to the table.   
Mister Gold wasn’t used to being aided in that way by a beautiful young woman like Belle. He could not help but offer her a small smile as she put the plates down on the table and looked back at him, and he sat down opposite her.   
Red got up from her seat. “Shall I bring the two of you something to drink as well?” she asked.   
“Did any Glasgow Ale come in yet?” Gold asked straight-away.  
“We’re not expecting another shipment before the end of next month, to be honest… Would you like some of Granny’s Ale?”  
“Water will do,” he replied dryly, poking his stew as he did not seem too fond of Granny’s home-made ale.  
Belle could see now why Red did not describe him as “kind” – he seemed to be rather cross in a way. As Red looked at her, she added: “I’ll have the same.”   
While Red disappeared, Belle poked her stew with the fork as well, seeing how it was too hot to eat straight away.   
“Are you a drinker, miss French?” he wondered, trying to get some conversation going, and he watched her as she shook her head, her eyes focused on her stew rather than on him.   
“Not really,” she admitted. “Dad and I used to make some mead and apple juice every now and then. We tried making ale a few times, but weren’t very fond of it. We like sweet drinks, mostly.” Remembering her father’s passing, she corrected herself: “Liked…”  
Mister Gold looked at her with compassion in his eyes, still feeling so very sorry for this girl’s loss.   
“What about you, mister Gold?” she asked – hoping to distract her own thoughts. “Glasgow Ale? Is that where you’re from?”  
“My parents were from Glasgow,” he replied.   
“You still have their accent,” she remarked. “It’s not very common here.”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said dryly.   
That tone amused her and she looked up at him with a small smile. “I like your accent,” she admitted. “I enjoy listening to it.”   
Once more, he was at a loss for words. That was the second compliment she had given him – after remarking how he looked handsome. He was still unused to it and found it hard to believe.   
“Well, I won’t be doing much talking for the next few minutes,” he said a little roughly. “My stew’s getting cold. Better eat it now.”  
Belle smiled once more because of his tone, not minding the silence as they both started eating, and Belle had no trouble keeping up with him. As Red came to bring them their water, she did not remark on their silence and simply said: “Enjoy your stew” before she left again.   
“You’ve got a good appetite, miss French,” he remarked after a few more minutes as they were both finishing the last stew on their plates.  
“I didn’t eat so well the past days,” she admitted. “You can imagine why.”  
He hesitated for a moment. “Not entirely. Were you unable to eat out of grief for your father’s loss or out of fear for becoming a prostitute?”  
Belle gulped, the question overwhelming her for a moment and she felt as though he had slapped her in the face. She looked at him in an effort to understand why he had said that in such a way, and when he noticed her shock, his expression immediately changed to a guilty one.   
“My apologies, miss French,” he hastily said. “I did not mean any disrespect, it’s just…”  
She shook her head. “No, my apologies,” she interrupted him as she cast her eyes down. “I had not expected you to bring that up in such a way… But if you want my honesty, then I must admit that both thoughts had me lose my appetite. I am indeed not well.”  
Though her voice had been controlled, there were tears in her eyes, and upon seeing those, mister Gold reached out to take her hand as it lay on the table. This once more surprised her, and she looked up into his eyes to see nothing but compassion and understanding.   
“You lost so much,” he acknowledged. “It would be even stranger if you were well right now.”  
As tears started rolling down her cheeks, she pulled her hand away from his to dry her eyes with a handkerchief.   
“Miss French,” he said softly, trying to win her attention once more. “May I suggest that I buy you some peace of mind?”  
She was confused for a moment, and looked at him with a small frown.  
“I know that it can take some time to process your loss – to adjust to a new life – and I feel sorry for you being pushed into prostitution without as much as a chance to grieve your father. Let me buy you for the night. You can pay Granny the money she expects from you and I promise not to lay hands on you. In fact, if you want, I’ll let you be right now.”   
It was the most generous offer that Belle could have expected to hear, and though she did not want to accept such generosity from anyone, she knew that it was exactly what she needed.   
“I will go and pay for you right away,” he decided as he saw her hesitation – and realizing that it was because she was afraid to ask for help. “Shall I pay for a week?” he continued. “One night won’t give you much peace of mind at all… Even a week isn’t that great, I suppose. But if you need more next week, let me know…”  
As mister Gold got up from his seat and headed to Granny, Belle sat there in stunned silence. Fearing for a moment that mister Gold would leave the saloon all-together, she hurried after him, stopping him before he reached the bar itself.   
“Mister Gold,” she said quietly enough so that only he could hear. “Please, let me know what you expect in return.”  
“I expect nothing,” he replied, a little insulted by a question.  
“But what is it that you want?” she insisted, her voice a little desperate. “Do you want to be my first, once I am ready for it?”  
He seemed even more insulted by that question.   
“Don’t be ridiculous. I am doing this for you because I respected your father – and because I respect you. I am not doing this with a hidden agenda. I just want you to know that you’re not completely alone in this world.”  
She was moved by those words, and another tear came to her eyes, though she smiled at the same time.   
“You won’t leave just yet, will you?” she asked softly. “I mean… You don’t have to be completely alone either. I don’t mind spending time with you.”  
Now he was the one who was moved by her words, and he looked down for a moment as he tried not to show her how shyly he was blushing. It didn’t help much though – she noticed.   
“We can sit in the bar, if you like,” she continued softly. “Or if it’s too loud for you, we can talk in my room – or not-talk… Anything you want…”  
He had sworn to himself to stay away from prostitutes – but Belle wasn’t a prostitute just yet – she was a kindred spirit, odd as that seemed.   
“Alright,” he agreed softly. “I’ll buy us some more water first and arrange it with Miss Lukas.”  
She nodded as she followed him to the bar, watching Granny’s large eyes as he put a ten-dollar-bill on the counter and said: “That’s for the stew, the drinks, and a night with Miss French. Could we get another bottle of water too?”  
Though he kept his voice down, plenty of people had been paying very close attention, including Red, Mister Clark and Jefferson, who seemed to be in shock because of that proposal. Red looked at Belle in an attempt to learn if she was really okay with it, and Belle quickly smiled, reassuring Red, though the girl remained suspicious – after all: there were still some tears in Belle’s eyes.  
Belle took the bottle of water from Granny’s as she led the way up to her room, feeling like the entire saloon was watching them as they went up the stairs. Mister Gold wasn’t particularly fast as he climbed the stairs, his bum leg holding him back, and Belle adjusted her own steps so she wouldn’t go too far ahead of him. She even waited for him on top of the stairs and took his hand as she guided him to her room, her cheeks flushing because she knew what all of Storybrooke had to be thinking now.   
They all thought she would lose her virginity that night, but that was not what she had agreed with mister Gold at all. He would keep to his word, would he not?


	3. Chapter 3

As mister Gold entered her small and empty room, he looked at the boudoir, the stool, her bed and realized he didn’t have a particularly good place to sit down. As he headed to the stool however, Belle stopped him.   
“Oh, please, mister Gold,” she said gently as she sat the bottle of water down on her boudoir. “Don’t sit down on that small thing. Take the bed if you like. You can even rest your leg a bit, if it’s troubling you.”  
He frowned a bit as he looked at her, wondering how she knew that climbing the stairs had made his ache worse.   
“I’ll take off my boot then,” he told her. “Don’t want to make your bedsheets dirty.”  
Belle shrugged. “It’s alright if you do though. Apparently we change the sheets after each customer. I got plenty of sheets in the cupboard.”  
Mister Gold had never known how that worked, but he was glad to hear that Granny’s saloon had rather high standards. He could remember seeing the prostitutes on the streets of Boston – older women that didn’t even have a saloon or brothel to work from, but carried the same blanket across the street, laying it out wherever they could get men to fuck them, rain or shine. It was the same profession as what Belle would do for a living, but he supposed that Belle would not have it as bad – not as long as Granny’s saloon would take her in.   
“Would you like some water?” she asked politely, and he quickly shook his head.  
“Perhaps later.”  
Taking one shoe off, he rested his bum leg on the bed, his other leg awkwardly still resting on the floor as he tried to position himself comfortably against the wooden plank of the bed, moving her pillow aside.   
“If you take off both shoes, you might be more comfortable,” Belle suggested kindly, and mister Gold raised an eyebrow.   
“Trying to get me to strip, are you, miss French?”  
This joke, however, was not met by one of her smiles or laughs. Instead, she startled a bit and blushed fiercely, feeling rather ashamed of what he had believed she was doing. She didn’t seem to realize that he hadn’t been entirely serious.   
Feeling awkward, mister Gold took off his shoe, noticing how she was avoiding his gaze now, her lip trembling a bit.   
“Hey,” he said softly, gulping his nerves away. “I was just joking… I didn’t mean to imply that you…” He took a deep breath and decided to try and be honest with her. “You’re very kind, miss French. I’m just… not used to that. I mean… I don’t like people getting too kind with me, that’s why my jokes are a little dry and cruel at times…”  
She looked at him again, her gaze more curious than offended now, and she moved the little stool closer to the bed, sitting down next to his feet as they rested comfortably on her sheets.   
“Why don’t you like it when people get kind with you?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.   
He was already regretting admitting that. He had never told anyone before – so why had he now? What was wrong with him?  
But he could not resist answering her now, and took a small breath before he spoke.   
“Because they’re just after money in the end,” he replied a little bitterly, and feeling a little attacked, Belle got rather defensive.   
“I’m not,” she tried to assure him. “I mean, you don’t have to pay for me tonight, or if you really want to, I will gladly repay you for the money you gave the saloon later.”  
She sounded a little nervous, mostly because she did not look forward to earning that money, but she was sincere, and mister Gold raised his hand, signaling for her to be quiet.   
“I know,” he acknowledged, and upon seeing her confused gaze, he explained: “I noticed when I saw you at the funeral. You wanted to repay me for the property I had lost. Most people beg me to give them leniency, to forget what has been lost, yet you immediately offered to give me back everything… Feels like money isn’t what makes your world turn around, Miss French.”  
She smiled sadly, then nodded. “I value many things above worldly possessions, mister Gold. Losing property wasn’t the worst. Losing my father was far worse, and in lesser extent, losing the books I treasured so much. Their words would have been able to comfort me…”  
Mister Gold was intrigued by those words. He had not met many people in Storybrooke that were able to read – let alone people that really enjoyed it.   
“You like books?” he asked gently.   
“I love them,” she answered with a smile, though it was a sad one still. “Unfortunately I have now lost all of them in the fire as well. But I am hoping to buy them again once I start making some money… They will keep me company and share their wisdom with me.”  
He was truly amused by her view on books, and teased her: “Some people would say that that’s what friends are for.”  
She cast her eyes down a little nervously, mumbling: “I never really had any friends.”   
Once more he felt for her. He had never been a compassionate man, but one sad gaze from Miss French and it was like his entire world crumbled too. How it was possible that he felt so badly for her, he did not know. But he did like her – and he liked the process of getting to know her, of sorting her out.   
“You’re still young, I am sure you will make plenty of friends in town,” he tried to cheer her up. “Red was nice to you, before. Wouldn’t you consider her a friend?”  
“She’s lovely,” Belle admitted slowly. “But I’ve only just met her. I’ve only just met everyone – including you. An entire world is opening up to me and I’m not even sure if I’m able to close my old one, you know…” Tears came to her eyes as she said that, and her voice broke as she continued: “I know I should be happy that so many people are willing to have me in their life, but part of me still wishes I could return to my old life – just me and papa.”  
As she started sobbing now, mister Gold did not feel frustrated or annoyed by her showing of tears. He only felt sorrowful, just like she did, and as she took a handkerchief to blow her nose and dry her tears, he also saw how she looked very tired in that moment – as though she didn’t want to fight those dark thoughts any more, and he knew it could be better to give into it. If she would suppress those feelings for too long, they would come to haunt her at a later time anyway.   
Looking at how awkwardly she sat on that small stool, crying to herself, he moved to the side of the bed, away from her while he patted the bed besides him.   
“Come,” he said gently. “Sit. It’s alright to cry.”   
She hesitated for a moment, but she trusted him enough to take him up on his offer, and as she sat beside him, she noticed how she did not dislike the feeling of his arm around her shoulders. It was warm and comforting, yet it did not heal the wound yet, in fact, it only deepened it. She could not help but think of how she would never feel the comfort of her father’s presence again, and as she sobbed even more, she became aware of how mister Gold’s arm tightened around her, holding her close until she gave up the last tension in her back and leaned in against him, her hand on his chest as she cried.   
He had never felt so much for anyone in his life, but for this young woman, his own heart was bleeding as well. It was dangerous territory, he knew, but he also knew that she was not like Milah. She could not be more different, or so it seemed to him. He would be safe with her, like she would be safe with him. Besides, right now she needed him – truly needed him.  
Any other man would have another agenda in regards to her, but he only wanted to protect her and care for her – to bring some happiness in her life once more – and though he did not know precisely how to do it, he was willing to try his best.   
“If you want to talk…” he offered softly, his chin leaning against her head as he held her fragile frame in his arms.   
She kept quiet for a few moments, before she took a breath, deciding to open up to him.   
“I wasn’t able to say goodbye,” she cried softly. “The last moment I saw him, I wished him a good night… Gave him a kiss on his forehead, then headed to bed. Then the next…” She sobbed again, trying to catch her breath. “…I wake up in a fire – escape through my window – and… and he’s not outside… And I listen and then I hear him scream and…”   
As she was starting to lose control over her breathing, he immediately took her hand with his free one, squeezing it tightly while he gently rocked her, shushing her in an attempt to calm her down. She was close to hyperventilating – and though it was something he understood, it was also something he wanted to avoid.   
“There was nothing you could have done,” he said quietly, hoping to ease her mind as he stroked her hair. “I’m glad you made it out alive – and I am sure your father would have agreed. Perhaps his life was meant to end that night, and perhaps you were meant to begin a new life too. Wherever your father is now, I am sure he is watching over you.”  
But those words did nothing to ease her mind at all, and she sobbed: “What on earth would he be thinking if he is watching over me now?” she demanded to know. “I’m to begin a career in prostitution, because of his death… how is that supposed to make him or me feel any better?!”  
Realizing the blunder of his earlier words, he now felt ashamed for what he had chosen to say. Though most girls at Granny’s didn’t seem particularly unhappy, it wasn’t exactly like these girls had found their happily ever after’s. Belle would not have it better than them if she stayed.   
As a crazy idea came to his mind, he suddenly fell very quiet, stopping the stroking of her hair as he stared ahead in mild shock. Belle noticed his sudden stiffness and turned her head to look at him, still with tears in her eyes.   
“I’m sorry if I appear angry,” she suddenly apologized, fearing her words were too mean for him, and she continued: “I am not angry at you – far from it – just at life in general.”  
“I know,” he mumbled, his voice soft as his cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t offended. I eh… I had an idea.”  
Belle did not take her eyes off his as she waited for him to continue, and from the way he shyly averted his gaze, she realized it had to be something very unusual.   
“Like, I know you’re not thrilled about starting this particular career, and I know you’re still mourning, and I also know you don’t want to feel as though you owe me anything, but… Perhaps… Perhaps I can help you.”  
Belle dried her eyes, curious about what he meant, and he was glad to see her relax, if only a little bit.   
“But you’re already helping me,” she said softly. “By giving me more time to get used to this new life.”  
He only nodded once before he continued: “But even then you only have one option now – one life to choose from. Perhaps… Perhaps I can offer you another option.”  
Noticing how red his face now was, Belle held her breath as well.   
“You could… you could marry me,” he said weakly, and he nearly cringed as he said it. It sounded so much worse out loud than it had in his mind, and he quickly explained: “But I don’t want to force it in any way – I just want you to have another option – and I expect nothing of this marriage besides your companionship. You need not sleep with me if you do not wish it yourself – I will not force myself upon you or expect anything that goes against your own will.”  
Belle was still baffled by the proposal, and frowned as she remarked: “But I hardly know you, mister Gold… Like… I don’t even know where you live, how old you are, or even your first name!”  
She noticed how he turned red once more, and he mumbled: “You can call me Rumford.”  
Belle, however, picked up on something in his words, and wondered: “If that is what I can call you, then what is your actual name?”  
Surprised she had realized that, he could not help but smile a little. “Promise to keep it to yourself? I have a reputation in this town, you know.”  
Belle nodded eagerly, her earlier tears seemingly forgotten for now, and he was surprised she had not denied his offer yet.   
“Rumplestiltskin,” he admitted, looking at her eyes to see her reaction, and he did not fail to notice how she raised her eyebrows in surprise.   
“Rumplestiltskin?” she replied. “Like the fairy tale?”  
He shrugged as he nodded, and Belle frowned once more.   
“Bit of a strange name,” she admitted. “Why would your parents pick that name of all names?”  
“My father was kind of a cruel man,” he continued. “And a fan of the fairy tale. And superstitious. He thought by naming his child thus, he’d find more gold. He had come to the west to find gold and nothing else. I was never really a part of his plan, but once I was born, he used me as his talisman – letting me join him wherever he went. As a child, I saw more mines than anything else. And we did find gold – though I doubt my presence in the mines had much to do with that. I never considered myself to be any kind of good-luck charm. Before I was twenty, I had already injured my ankle in one of those mines, during a cave-in, and not soon after that my father died as well – from old age, not from an accident or anything.”  
She had not expected him to open up like that, but it was only a proof to her that he was dead serious about the offer he had made.   
“Thank you for telling me this,” she said softly, still confused, but not completely willing to turn him down either. “But why offer me this?” she wondered. “Are you lonely?”  
That question caught him unawares and he hesitated for a moment, his lip trembling before he admitted: “Perhaps I am. I like talking to you – taking care of you…”  
He felt like he was already saying too much, and he closed his mouth again, deciding he had said enough. If she hated this idea, she would tell all of Storybrooke about his ridiculous proposal, and he wanted to keep some dignity to himself. Perhaps it was already too late for that.   
“I like talking to you too,” she suddenly said with a small smile on her face, taking his hand as she squeezed it. “And I would love to take care of you too… I’m just… I’m not sure if I can marry someone I don’t even know yet…”  
“You can get to know me first,” he found himself say, even wondering to himself why he seemed so eager. “You don’t need to tell anyone about this. Keep your options open, and in the days and weeks that follow, I will protect you – pay for your room – and you can get to know me. And if you want, you can marry me and come and live with me afterwards – and even then I will not expect anything from you besides your company when I come home from work. You can come to dinner with me, here at Granny’s or at Cruella’s, or I can cook for you, or you for me. You can read my books, and Grace would help you with any chores around the house. You could garden, if you would like that, and you would get your own room, as big as this one, but not as loud.”  
Belle could not stop her sad smile, and she admitted: “You almost had me at ‘books’…”  
He relaxed a little as she said that, but he was still curious if she was really interested or just being polite.   
Noticing the way in which he was waiting for her answer, she said: “I would still like to get to know you first, if you don’t mind… But I really appreciate the idea and I must say that it is far more alluring right now than becoming a prostitute is.”  
“I feel honored,” he said dryly, and as she realized how horrible that had to have sounded, she suddenly laughed.   
“Oh, Rumple, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” she apologized, and he felt his heart jump as she called him “Rumple”. No one had called him like that in decades. “Please, do let me express my gratitude,” she continued. “I could massage your sore foot, if you like.”  
She moved down onto the bed and lifted his foot onto her lap while he looked at her with his mouth slightly open, stunned by that suggestion alone.  
But she was not wasting any time and had his foot in her hands before he could object, and as she started massaging it, even while he was still wearing his sock, he was surprised by how nice it felt.   
“You don’t have to,” he said weakly, his eyes closing for a moment as he enjoyed the pressure she was applying to his sole.  
“But I want to…”  
As he looked at her again, he noticed how she seemed pleased with herself as she massaged him. She certainly wasn’t looking as though she hated the thought of touching him – in fact, she looked more relaxed than he had seen her before. And he himself also felt relaxed and at ease – something that was quite rare for him, especially when he wasn’t alone.   
“So…” Belle said after a few minutes, not stopping her massage just yet as she looked up at him. “How old are you then?”  
Though it was a subject he did not like very much, he had to be honest with her. “Forty-one,” he replied. “You?”  
“Twenty,” she replied honestly, and the both of them kept quiet for a moment, doing the maths.   
“Next year, I’ll be exactly twice your age,” he remarked, wondering why he thought that was a good thing to mention. Surely she had to think he was an old creep. “Does that bother you?”  
As she shook her head, he wondered once more if she was just being polite or if she was serious.   
“It doesn’t bother me,” she said. “I don’t think age is what makes or breaks a relationship. There are other things that are far more important.”  
“Such as?” he asked curiously.   
She stopped the massage for a moment as she thought about that and by the time she continued, he was looking at her with a smile on his face. She was particularly beautiful when she was lost in thought.   
“A click,” she replied softly. “Feeling like you match – like the other person will understand without too much of an effort… And if they need to make an effort, that they gladly do it because… because it’s you. And they love to spend time with you and you with them, and it feels like you won’t ever grow sick of them. Like they’re family and friends all at the same time. And there’s love – the kind that gives you strength.”  
Even if she had not given it much thought before, he thought her answer was beautiful.   
“So my age… it does not hinder you? You do not think me too old to look at – too ugly to spend your time with?” He almost sounded hopeful, but he was bracing himself for cruelty. Not many people had ever described him as attractive. He had often enough heard the rumors that women would gladly marry him – for his money, but for no other part of him.  
Belle surprised him, however, and she looked up at him with a smile. “Mister Gold, you are very handsome for a man your age. Your hair is beautiful, I like your eyes too and you have a grace about you that I have never seen in a man before – even if you limp. It is true that you no longer look like a boy, but that’s not a bad thing.”  
She was even blushing now as she averted her eyes, and he felt his chest swell with pride. She didn’t seem to find him ugly – at all – and he was grateful for it.   
“I hope my age does not hinder you,” she continued. “I’m young and naïve and to be honest, I’m a little scared of just the world in general. I fear you might see my beauty and think I am perfect in every way, but that would be a grave mistake. I’m not a goddess or anything of the sort, I’m hardly more than a girl, clumsy and inexperienced.”  
He listened carefully to her words and nodded slowly. She was so beautiful and sweet and clever that it seemed like she was some sort of goddess indeed. He could not imagine her to have any failures, but surely she had some, just like him.   
“You’re gifted when it comes to giving massages though,” he complimented her. “My foot has never been more spoiled.”  
She was pleased by those words and asked: “Shall I massage your other foot too?”  
He gladly let her take his other foot in her hands and relaxed once more as she kneaded the flesh on his sole, as though she had done this a million times before. Perhaps her father had been a former recipient of those foot rubs? He did not want to ask her, out of fear that she would get too emotional again. She seemed to be content right now and he wanted to keep it that way.   
As he watched her for a few moments, both of them in deep thought, he suddenly asked her: “Would you do me the honor of joining me on my rounds tomorrow, Miss French?”  
She looked up with a bit of a confused expression on her face.   
“Your rounds?” she repeated gently.   
“Yes, collecting the rent,” he informed her, hoping with all his might that she would agree. “It would give us an opportunity to get to know one another better – for you to see what it is I do in life and to see a bit of Storybrooke at the same time.”  
“I’d love that,” she said breathlessly, a broad smile on her face. It would mean that she did not have to stay at the saloon that day – that she’d be able to spend the day with mister Gold instead – how could that be bad?  
“So shall I pick you up at noon then?” he asked in a relieved tone, glad she had said yes.   
“Sure!” she replied with an eager nod, but her look changed to one of confusion when she noticed how he was moving to the side of the bed again, gathering his boots to put them on.   
“Are you leaving?” she wondered, her voice slightly disappointed, and he immediately picked up on that.   
“It… it’s getting late,” he mumbled shyly, not looking at her. “I mean… you will be alright, won’t you?”  
She hesitated, not sure if she would be. She wanted him to stay with her, but at the same time she knew she could not hold him hostage. He probably wanted to sleep in his own bed and get ready for the night in a familiar place. Not to mention that he probably didn’t want to limp out of the saloon first thing in the morning, while all of Storybrooke could see.   
He picked up on her hesitation though, and wondered for a moment if she really wanted him to stay, but when she mumbled: “I’ll manage,” he figured that his time was up for tonight and it was better to leave.   
As he laced in his boots and got up from the bed, Belle got up as well, following him to her door as he tried to think of the best way to say goodbye to her.   
Turning towards her, he offered her a sad smile. “I do hope you’ll feel better tomorrow. I really look forward to spending the afternoon with you, Miss French.”  
“As do I,” she replied just as sadly. “I really enjoy your company, mister Gold.”  
Once more his ego was boosted and he hoped with all his heart that she would choose to become his wife. His life would truly change for the better if she decided to spend it with him. But no matter what she chose, he just wanted her to be happy, to see some light in those eyes again.   
Taking her hand, he lifted it and pressed a gentle kiss to it.   
“Sleep well, Miss French,” he wished her kindly, and as their eyes locked and she smiled, he smiled as well.   
“You too, mister Gold. Thank you for everything.”  
“No thanks,” he replied as he felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. “It’s been my pleasure.”  
As he opened the door and left her room, he felt a little strange, and he was not aware that Belle watched him head down the stairs again before she closed the door with a small smile on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

Belle remained quiet the next morning, despite the curious gazes of the other girls and their questions to her. Luckily for her, the questions were already answered by the girls themselves, and she just smiled mysteriously, not needing to say a single word as they bickered and tried to get her attention.   
“What was he like?” Red wondered, sitting down next to Belle and taking her hand, hoping this would convince her to talk.   
“Probably so dark and brooding that he was unable to get anything up,” Lily replied with a loud laugh.   
“He probably saw her undress and came then and there,” Maleficent added. “The man hasn’t had a good bedding in his entire life – how can anyone expect him to last?”  
“Who knows, perhaps he just wanted a hug?” Mulan suggested, not so evilly as the other two before her had. “I mean, he might be the lonely type, just looking for someone to cuddle with.”  
“Girl, nobody pays ten dollars to cuddle a girl,” Lily bit back, shaking her head as she thought that was the stupidest idea in the world.   
Emma chuckled with all the chattering as she headed towards the back door of the saloon. “I’m going to get some water. Belle, won’t you join me?”  
Belle looked up in mild surprise. Emma was a kind soul, very secretive, and for some reason it felt like a good idea to follow her for now. She let go of Red’s hand and simply smiled at her before she followed Emma out of the building.  
Once outside, she helped the blonde pull a cart out of a shed and together they headed towards the well. There were half a dozen empty buckets for them to fill, and it was a bit of a walk to reach the well at the edge of town. Emma was quiet as they stepped through the dirt on Main Street, and Belle wondered when Emma would start asking questions. When she didn’t, however, Belle was the one to frown.   
“Why did you ask me to join you?” she wondered.   
“So you could get some peace and quiet,” Emma replied without missing a beat. “Some girls like to discuss their nightly exploits in great detail, others have no interest in sharing that information.”  
Belle still wasn’t sure why Emma had asked her along, but she was intrigued. After biting her lip for a few moments, she noted: “They say you keep secrets…”  
“I do,” Emma replied, stopping the cart by the empty well at the side of the main road.   
“So are you waiting for mine or something?” Belle wondered, not sure if she should talk to Emma or not about what had gone on the evening before.   
“That’s up to you,” Emma replied as she started lowering the buckets in the well. “Help me pull this up, won’t you?”  
Belle hurried to the young woman’s side so they could pull up the water together and leave the buckets on the cart. When they were done, they were panting a bit, and Emma remarked: “It’s good exercise, all this weight-lifting. Keeps you in shape.”  
Belle chuckled. It wasn’t something that had crossed her mind.   
“Have you been working at the saloon for a long time?” Belle wondered.   
“Since I was eighteen,” she replied, leaning against the well. “Though it was not my first time selling my body. I started a bit younger. Didn’t really have much of a choice.”  
“I’m so sorry to hear that…” Belle said compassionately.   
“Don’t be… I ended up in a good place. I like Storybrooke, I really do. The people are kind, yet interesting. Not to mention that most of the men are rather well-groomed and hygienic – something we should truly be grateful for in our line of work.”   
Belle raised an eyebrow. “How’s that possible? I mean… why are they better here than in other towns?”  
“I think Granny has something to do with it,” Emma explained. “Her sense of smell is incredible, and if a guy stinks she is not afraid to throw him out of the saloon. I think most men respect her enough to wash up before they come to us.”  
Belle found that very amusing and was enjoying this conversation with the other young woman. She was an interesting person, to say the least.   
“They say you know more secrets about the people of Storybrooke than anybody else. How did that come to be?”  
Emma was glad that she was able to keep Belle’s mind occupied with such curious thoughts. “I ask a lot of questions, I give advice where I can, including tips to men who aren’t as gifted in love-making as they like to believe themselves. I sell brutal honesty to men, and those who can take it really enjoy the way in which I can make them grow – no pun intended.”  
Belle didn’t immediately get the joke, and Emma noticed fast enough.   
“You really don’t know much about your new trade yet, do you?” Emma continued gently. “I really wouldn’t mind explaining to you how the birds and the bees work.”  
As Belle started blushing, she admitted: “I’m sorry, it’s all new to me. I had never known I’d need to become an expert in about a week’s time on these matters.”  
“I presume that mister Gold didn’t touch you yet last night?” Emma asked. “I mean… You don’t seem particularly shaken or so much different from the way you were yesterday. It just gives me the impression you two didn’t do anything.”   
Belle continued blushing at those words, not sure what to reply, and finally decided to admit: “We didn’t do anything at all, really… Just talk and…”  
“And?” Emma wondered, noticing how Belle shut up so abruptly.   
“I massaged his feet,” she admitted, feeling a little foolish for admitting that. Not to mention that she still wasn’t sure whether to tell Emma anything about what had happened or not. Perhaps Emma was good at keeping secrets, but Belle felt like she could not keep everything that had happened to herself. She needed a second opinion.   
Emma seemed genuinely surprised by that.   
“Mister Gold remains a curious man, I must say,” Emma noted. “He has never let me within an arm’s length. I have tried to get to know him better over the past years, but he is so closed off… He never really liked me or my reputation, seemed horrified by the idea that he would tell me something he rather wouldn’t, so he always kept his distance. But I had not expected him to be the kind that likes to talk about anything.”  
“He’s been really supportive,” Belle explained, hoping Emma would keep that to herself. “He likes me – because I’m not after his money, is what he says – and for some reason, that must be why he likes to spend money on me now… I mean… He gave ten dollars for absolutely nothing yesterday… I just… I talked to him and I even cried, because of what happened to my father, and… he didn’t even seem to mind, and he held me and…”   
Belle wasn’t as coherent as she wished to be, but it was all so very confusing to talk about at the same time.   
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” she hastily said. “I really don’t want to betray his trust, and if he learns I told you anything, I fear he might not consider me a friend anymore.”  
“Your secrets are safe with me, Belle,” Emma assured her. “Just like I won’t tell you anyone else’s secrets. But I can give you advice and feedback, if that is what you desire.”  
She nodded hastily, glad to have a soundboard for what she had experienced the night before.   
“I’m not… I’m not particularly eager to start my new career,” Belle admitted. “I’m scared and I feel like it’s all going too fast and I wish I could turn back time – or at least stop time – yet it’s moving along too fast for my liking… Mister Gold knows this too – that I do not really wish to become a prostitute, and not just did he offer to buy me time, he eh…” Belle gulped before she continued: “He asked me – or rather suggested… to marry him.”  
Emma’s mouth literally dropped and even though she liked to believe she was difficult to surprise, this really did shock her.   
“He asked you for your hand?” she asked incredulously.   
“Sort of,” Belle replied softly, looking around just to check if no one else was approaching. “He asked me to marry him, but it wasn’t like he went down on one knee – it wasn’t some big romantic moment, just like… He wanted me to have another option. He said that if I did not want to become a prostitute, he would gladly take me in, marry me for company, without expecting anything else from me, or at least that’s what he said.”  
Emma seemed to be lost in thought because of that news, and only spoke after a few moments of silence. “You believe him? That he doesn’t expect anything from you in return?”  
Belle didn’t wait before she nodded. “I believe him. I completely do. He’s a kind man, with no desire to inflict any cruelty upon me. I believe that if I were to marry him, he would not touch me without my consent.”   
“And is that what you want?” Emma wondered. “Prostitutes don’t often marry, but it is known to happen. Sometimes people fall in love. Are you in love with him?”  
Belle hesitated. “I don’t know. I mean… I’m in mourning.” Tears came to her eyes. “Like I said, I want time to stop – I want to catch my breath.” She wiped away a few tears from her eyes, and smiled reassuringly when she felt Emma touch her shoulder in an attempt to offer her some strength. “He is a good man and I care for him because he is kind to me,” she continued. “But is that enough of a reason to marry him?”  
“Sounds to me like you should spend more time with him first,” Emma advised, and Belle nodded once more.   
“I know… He suggested the same thing too. He’s picking me up around noon. He wants to take me on his rounds while he collects the rent – to see what it is he does in life.”  
Emma smiled. “I’m glad you agreed to go with him. It is good to give him a chance. If not, you will keep on wondering for the rest of your life how it would have been. You don’t have to make a decision if you don’t want to. But you’re giving him a fair chance. Perhaps you’ll like what he has to offer you more than what we can offer you at Granny’s Saloon.”  
Belle was glad that she had the chance to talk it over, and patiently listened as Emma continued with her advice.   
“I have no doubt that you would be a successful prostitute – able to make a good living at Granny’s. But it’s not a life that is fit for everyone. Though most men are kind, there will be some nights that you hate, customers that you dread. At the same time there will be men you will love, almost as much as though they were actually yours. Men that will please you and be gentle and kind with you. But people will disrespect you at the same time, consider you a thing and speak badly of you. You won’t be allowed to enter the church without expecting a sermon from the reverend about how God will smite those who are wicked. But at the same time you will be worshipped yourself, and men will beg to spend the night with you. There are worse ways of living. I don’t know if choosing mister Gold would be a better choice. You would not be able to bed any other men if you were married to him – you might not have the same liberties as you would have at Granny’s. We are not owned by any men, we make our own choices. It could be a stupid example, but for all you know mister Gold would try to control you, make you wear clothes that he wants you to wear, or forbid you to go into town unless he says so. I can do whatever I please whenever I please it. Many married women can’t. It are those things that I am grateful for.”   
Belle certainly thought that Emma’s perspective on these things was interesting. She made valid points, both in favor and against marriage.   
“I do like mister Gold,” Belle said gently. “I think he is beautiful and kind. I also feel like we connect really well – like our spirits are the same. Does that make sense?”  
Emma chuckled because of Belle’s choice of words, and nodded reassuringly.   
“It completely does,” she replied. “I have a few customers myself with whom I feel connected – and in all cases, it was something that became apparent after just a few words. Sometimes that’s all you need, though I don’t mean to say you should hurry up your decision because of that. Take all the time you need to make up your mind. These times are confusing enough for you as it is.”   
Belle sighed, but still she had a soft smile on her face. “Thank you, Emma. For listening. And for your advice. I just wish there was something I could do for mister Gold to show him my appreciation. He has done so much for me already and I do appreciate his friendship. I just have nothing to give him.”  
Emma started laughing, and as she noticed Belle’s confused gaze, she continued: “My dear child, you have so much to offer him. You could start by giving him a hug, or by letting him sleep in your arms. Or give him a kiss or a hand job, I mean, you don’t need actual money to give a man something in return, to make him feel appreciated.”  
Belle was frowning again.   
“What’s a hand job?”  
Emma looked at Belle’s innocent gaze and smiled.   
“You really are too pure for this world,” she sighed longingly. “I already knew that sort of thing when I was much younger than you. Basically, a hand job is when you make a man come just by jerking him off.” As Emma made a jerking-movement with her hands, Belle blushed and nervously averted her eyes.   
“I’m not sure if mister Gold would appreciate that,” she said shyly.   
“Most men would,” Emma said. “Though actual sex or a blowjob is even more appreciated by most.”  
Belle was already fearing what she meant with a blowjob, and Emma quickly explained: “Making them come by teasing them with your mouth… Drives them wild.”   
As Belle gulped nervously, Emma said: “Look, I don’t always do this, but if you’d like to see these things in action, I have a customer who likes to be watched. I bet he would be completely fine with showing you how all these things work, and nothing would be expected of you at all. You could just watch and even ask questions and he would love it. It would be easier to show you some things too.”  
Just the idea that any man would like to get watched by a third person during intercourse was new to Belle, but Emma’s comfort was even more important to her: “Wouldn’t you mind though?” Belle asked. “If I saw you?”  
“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t mind at all,” Emma assured her. “I was once in your position. Everyone starts out a virgin at some point, and though you can learn from experience, there are advantages to learning from example.”  
Belle’s cheeks were flushing and she wasn’t sure what to do anymore.  
“I really am scared of being a proper prostitute,” Belle admitted. “Perhaps I should marry mister Gold instead…”  
Though Emma sympathized, she was also strict: “Make sure he is a good man first – and if you can love him or feel any attraction for him, even better. Don’t say yes just to escape prostitution. Getting stuck in an unhappy marriage won’t do you any good either. There are so many married women in this town that are addicted to morphine. I know because Maleficent always tells me who else she meets at her dealer.”  
Belle raised an eye, surprised Emma would reveal such a secret.  
“Oh, that’s not even a secret,” Emma said as she noticed Belle’s gaze. “Everyone knows Maleficent does morphine. She’s a bit of an addict. She’ll admit it herself if you ask her about it.”  
Taking a deep breath, Belle felt more confused than ever. “I wish I knew what to do,” she mumbled, and as Emma heard her, she took a step closer and gave Belle a hug.   
“Go on your date,” she encouraged her. “Have fun with him. And if that’s impossible, then don’t marry him. Look for happiness. If you can find it with him, you have a good basis for a marriage. Don’t settle for anything less. Who knows, you might still find a better partner while working at the Saloon. Like I said, wouldn’t be the first time one of the girls got married.”  
Belle took another breath, and felt Emma squeeze her shoulder.  
“Don’t worry, Belle, don’t overthink what I said. You will feel it in your gut when it’s right. You will know what to do, just trust your instincts.”  
She only relaxed a little bit, and as Emma started preparing the cart so they could leave again, she suggested: “Let’s just head back to the saloon, alright? Let me help you get ready for your date with mister Gold. I won’t tell anyone anything we just discussed, don’t worry about that.”  
Belle didn’t worry about that, and she happily agreed with Emma’s proposal as they headed back towards the saloon.   
Sure, she was still confused, but she was also wiser at the same time. She was actually looking forward to spending more time with Rumplestiltskin. At least he didn’t make life feel as complicated as Emma did.


	5. Chapter 5

When mister Gold arrived at Granny’s Saloon that noon, many of the girls were confused. Belle hadn’t said a word to the others about her date with mister Gold, and only Emma wished her a good time when she left the saloon again, the rest was too confused to remark upon Belle leaving with the richest man in town.   
Mister Gold leaned heavily on his cane as he headed towards his own carriage, Belle following right beside him through the dirty main street, not going any faster than he did and feeling a little nervous as they had hardly exchanged a word so far. She had felt pretty watched, and she figured that he had as well, for they did not relax until they were both on top of the carriage and the two black horses in front of it were leading them out of the center of town.   
“Did you have a good morning, mister Gold?” Belle asked gently, her hands folded in her lap as she looked at him, and she noticed how he looked at her in mild surprise because of the question.   
“Yes, yes, of course,” he replied, not used to anyone asking him anything about his day. Deciding to try and be nice in return, he asked: “And you, miss French?”  
She nodded. “Yes. The morning was good.”  
As an awkward silence followed, they both looked out over the road that led out of town, towards those houses that still belonged to Storybrooke but lay at the edge of the forests. They both tried to think of something to say, of some way to break the silence, but as they both felt rather nervous, they remained quiet for a while, until mister Gold finally said: “I do wish to apologize for last night, miss French. I fear I may have caused unnecessary awkwardness between us by asking you for your hand in marriage.”  
Belle looked at him in confusion, wondering what it was he meant to say precisely.   
“If you wish, I can take you b-back right now," he offered, trying not to stutter but failing. "I-I do not want to waste your time o-or make you even more uncomfortable.”  
“Mister Gold!” Belle sounded offended, and she had a frown on her face, feeling a little angry with him for even thinking those things. “Don’t say that! Yes, I am quiet and yes, this is all new and strange to me, but I want to get to know you. Don’t shut me out before you’ve even given me a chance to adjust to this!”  
As he looked at her, he gulped, fearing he had made a grave mistake – but he had not expected anything less from himself. Cursing himself inwardly, he remained quiet however, and he looked at her as she continued: “I personally hope your offer still stands – and that you will be patient with me as I consider my options. I wasn’t being so quiet because I disliked you, I was being quiet because I dislike…”   
She stopped – wondering what it was she disliked so much that she was unable to talk to him.   
“Dislike what?” he wondered after waiting for her continuation for a few moments.   
“I dislike… Storybrooke,” she replied, still searching her own feelings for a better answer. “The people, I mean… The gossip… The attitude and the society and our values and hypocrisy! And it’s not just Storybrooke, it’s everywhere! And I feel watched by them, judged by them, and I hate it. You’re the only one with whom I feel I’m not being judged. The only one who gives me the idea I don’t have to change, don’t have to force myself to fit any role they want to put me in. Part of me just wants to give up and go live in the forest - but I know I wouldn’t last a week.”   
Even if she was entirely serious, Rumplestiltskin suddenly chuckled, amused by her words. She raised an eyebrow as she wondered why he was laughing, and he suddenly took her hand and squeezed it as he said: “I knew I had found some sort of kindred spirit when we first met. I didn’t realize you could be as bitter as me though. To be honest, it’s refreshing.”  
Belle felt a weight lift off her heart as he said those words, and she felt hope return to her as she asked: “You feel that way too?”  
“Are you kidding me? I know practically all of these people and they’re either idiots or hypocrites, with hardly anything in-between. Even though I’m just trying to help you – you know, do the Christian thing as they would preach to do – they judge the both of us, think the worst of this, no matter how well we behave ourselves.”  
Belle's earlier frustration disappeared and she smiled as she looked at him. He really did seem to be on the same page as her. It was nice that she wasn't truly alone. "Did you really think I felt awkward because of you?" she asked in a soft tone. "Cause I didn't. I felt awkward being in town, being watched, being judged. But I was looking forward to this afternoon, to spending time with you."  
She could see how these words relieved him, and she squeezed his hand to give him some physical confirmation of what she felt. What she had not expected, were the butterflies in her stomach when he grinned. He looked ten years younger and she thought the sparkle in his eyes was very charming.   
"My apologies for doubting you," he said gently, looking at her with a gaze that seemed to beg her for forgiveness. "I still find it hard to believe that anyone would want to spend time with me."  
Belle felt so sorry for him as he admitted that, that she carefully moved a little closer to him on the bench of their carriage and wrapped an arm around his back, hoping it would assure him that she truly liked him.   
He felt the blood rise to his cheeks and shyly averted his eyes as she looked at him, but he could not deny that he felt a little dizzy from all the attention. He quite liked the feeling, to be honest, but he also felt like he was in over his head. What had he been thinking when he had asked her for her hand? Had he truly not preferred his life of solitude?   
Belle eventually moved her hand from his back to her lap again, though she remained seated against his side, not moving back to where she had sat before. As she looked at a row of houses at the edge of the forest, she wondered: "Are those some of yours?"  
"Aye," he replied. "All of them are. Four houses and four families in total. A lumberjack, a spinner and two farmers."  
Belle saw more people around the property though and while the houses were small, it seemed like at least a dozen children were playing in the surrounding gardens, and as they spotted the carriage, they headed either inside or ran towards the nearby fields, where some adults and bigger children were working.  
As they drove by the first gate, a boy no older than eight years old came to bring a small bag of coins to them, tossing it to mister Gold who caught it without too much of an effort.   
"Nice throw," he commented, taking the money and throwing back the empty bag, and the boy grinned before he ran back into the house, too awkward to say anything more.   
Belle watched as mister Gold looked down and quickly counted the money before he took out a purse of his own and slid the coins in there.   
At the next house, a pregnant woman emerged. "Mister Gold," she said respectfully, but without any warmth as she handed him an envelope.   
"Thank you," he replied politely, but his tone was also lacking any warmth. As the woman walked back inside, they headed to the next two houses. Similar situations occurred as other children came out, hardly said anything, looked curiously at Belle, then gave the money and left again.   
As they drove on in their carriage, mister Gold said: "Well, that went well..."  
Wondering what could have been worse, she frowned and said: "It doesn't always go well then?"  
"Oh no..." He laughed briefly. "I have had them beg me for leniency in the past. Usually all four families at the same time. And since there’s an average of about eight people living in each house, you can imagine why that isn’t such a fun thing to encounter. Sometimes it doesn't go well and they try to strike a bargain. Seems like their business has been going alright lately. I should not complain."  
As he handed her the reins for a moment, Belle held them awkwardly, not used to controlling any horses, even if there was nothing to it. She watched as he got all the money together in his own purse, then tucked it away again in an inside pocket.   
"Aren't you afraid of being robbed?" Belle wondered, handing him back the reins.   
Lifting his coat to the side a bit, he showed her a gun as it hung in a holster, its marble handle decorated with gold. She gulped, always having had a fear of guns, and he explained: "Got robbed once, so since then I carry this around."  
"Did they hurt you?" she asked carefully, rather curious about this incident.   
"No. They were waiting for me, two masked men. Asked me for all my money - and stole my carriage - and left me with nothing but my clothes and my cane. It happened when I was twenty-three. After that, two idiots tried to rob me - on separate occasions. I shot them, they died, and my reputation did the rest. No one has tried in the past thirteen years now."  
Belle was quiet as she realized he had killed men. They had been robbers, but still.   
He seemed to notice her silence as he suddenly asked her: "Does that bother you, Miss French?"  
"Did you... did you feel... accomplished or proud because of it?"  
The question was asked softly, without any malice or judgement in her tone, but Rumple knew how dangerous a question it was.   
"I think I felt like one could feel after selling their body. So, no, miss French, I did not feel proud or accomplished - I felt forced, but we all do things we're not proud of in order to survive. I survived though – and of that I am proud."  
He had a frown on his face as he said those words, not seeming to be happy to talk about it, but Belle understood his comparison and wondered if he had put it like that because he knew she would understand it in that way.   
"I, for one, am glad they have left you alone since then," she said kindly. "And I believe people have a right to defend what is theirs from people who have no claim to it."  
"I am glad that they didn't kill me when they saw me," he said bitterly. "If a masked man were to appear right now and look my way, I'd shoot him without a moment of hesitation. Can’t take any chances."  
Belle took him by the arm, her urge to comfort him physically something she could not suppress, and it did have a calming effect on him, and he looked to her side and offered her a small smile in gratitude.   
"What a bleak subject," he muttered, causing Belle to laugh gently, and he added: "I only have two more stops to make today, in fact. Would you like to go anywhere in particular? Anything you want to see or do?"  
“Not really,” Belle said gently. “I mean… I’d love to stop somewhere, but I’m not that familiar with the neighborhood.”  
“Want me to stop at your old house?” he suggested carefully, but he stopped talking when he saw how Belle shook her head.   
“Please, not today. I would like a day without tears, and I know that seeing my old house again would not do me any good right now. Another time, perhaps… Not today, I want this to be a happy day.”  
He felt his heart melt as he looked at Belle, and once more squeezed her hand as she spoke. He realized that they were both rather touchy with one another – not just her, and not just him either. But he was glad that there was a mutual attraction and that they were both eager to touch and please one another.   
“We won’t go there then,” he said gently. “No worries, I’ll think of something else.” 

They drove by Doctor Whale's house, just on the border of town, and were even invited inside by Doctor Whale's assistant, Igor. But mister Gold politely declined and instead accepted the money and rode on.   
Seeing how the doctor's house resembled more of a mansion, it was hardly surprising to Belle that the rent was much higher than that of the tiny houses by the edge of the forest.   
Mister Gold explained to her that he was out collecting rent about twenty days of the month, owning over two hundred properties in Storybrooke. He even owned the Saloon, which Belle found amusing.   
As they headed up to another large house at the edge of town, Belle wondered who lived there. The house was made of stone and wood and looked a bit like an over-sized chalet, with a barn and two other, smaller houses on the same grounds. The garden wasn't particularly beautiful, in fact it was nothing compared to the garden Belle had had at her old house, and there was a small pond to the side, which Belle only noticed when several ducks ran over the road, heading towards the water for shelter from the carriage and its horses.   
"Who lives here?" Belle wondered, and she heard Rumple chuckle.   
"I do. I thought you might want to eat something?"  
She found it surprising that he had taken her to his house, and as he made the horses stop next to the barn, he got off the carriage first before he helped Belle down as well, leaning heavily on his cane as he supported her with his other hand while she got off.  
She tried not to put too much of her weight on him, but as a result she landed rather clumsily, and he pulled her against him so she wouldn't fall to the ground.   
"Are you alright?" he asked, a little startled and worried she had hurt herself, and she was breathless as she looked up at him, only realizing as she leaned against him how much taller than her he really was.   
"Yes," she whispered, afraid to talk too loud now that her lips were so close to his. It was like her body was nervous to be around him, but at the same time she knew she did not want to be apart from him. Was this what love felt like? Or was it merely attraction?   
As the door of one of the small cottages opened, Belle looked up and saw how a girl - no older than ten years - emerged and headed towards them.  
Belle took a step back, giving mister Gold his space again and looked as the girl ran closer, a curious smile on her face as she spotted Belle.   
"Hello, mister Gold," she greeted him politely. "Hello, miss!"  
"Hello, Grace," he replied politely. "This is Miss French. She will be joining us for dinner. Will you make sure the horses get something to drink and eat?"  
She nodded eagerly and went to the front of the carriage, patting the horses and gently talking to them while mister Gold offered Belle his arm to lead her inside. She gracefully took it and followed him, all the while looking around her, admiring the size of his domain and wondering how long he had lived here.   
As they entered the hallway, Belle noticed how the wooden floor was covered with carpets, and how mister Gold wiped his feet before he walked on. Belle did the same, gazing at their reflection in a mirror that hung besides them before she got distracted by a rack that hung on the wall and held half a dozen canes.   
"Come," he said warmly. "Let's sit down in the living room. We usually don't start dinner until Jefferson arrives anyway."  
"Jefferson?" she repeated, knowing the name pretty well and remembering his face too. He had brought her those new dresses, but she also knew that he expected her to sleep with him in return for them - not that he had rushed her in any way.   
"He's Grace's father - lives in the cottage you saw Grace emerge from. Grace helps with the household, and in return Jefferson doesn't have to pay any rent for this place. He only pays rent for the room he has in the center of town, at the store of Mister Clark. At first, he lived there with Grace, but the place was too small to live and work in at the same time, so when Grace was five, he moved here. His room in the store is now completely dedicated to his work as a tailor."  
Belle found it very interesting to hear that such a small girl lived on his property, yet remained quiet as she followed him into the living room. The hearth was unlit and a comfortable sofa stood in front of it. There were also dark but beautiful paintings, an old desk, several bookcases and a black rocking chair in the room, and Belle took a seat in the sofa as mister Gold directed her to it.   
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked politely, but Belle shook her head and patted the space besides her, hoping he would sit down.   
He obliged her immediately, turning towards her as she looked into his eyes without hesitation.   
"Do tell me more about Grace and Jefferson," she urged him curiously. "What happened to Grace's mother?"  
He took a small breath as he put his hands together in his lap, trying to find the best way to begin.   
"Jefferson has always been rather fond of women - especially those in Granny's Saloon... But, about twelve years ago, there was one woman there whom he adored more than any of the others. He spent every night he could with her. Yet at the same time, he never made a decision to marry her or to get her out of the situation she was in... To be honest, I don't fully understand that, because I do believe he loved her... But apparently he wasn't fuzzed about sharing her with others. A few years later, she became pregnant, and considering the fact that Jefferson was her most regular customer, he also assumed that the child would be his. Once she was pregnant, he took her in, even if it was hard on him to support her, and she delivered the baby and things were quite alright for a while... She even went back to work at the saloon every now and then, to earn some extra money for the both of them... Once again, that was something I didn't fully understand... Then, the second winter after Grace was born, she got sick. Started coughing up blood, couldn't even get out of bed by her last weeks... She died in a fever, left Grace with Jefferson, who tried his hardest to take care of her, but who was heartbroken. I know that he spent many evenings at the Saloon while Grace was asleep. The women understood and they comforted him, I suppose. Or perhaps they missed her too … I guess that he now feels like he's supporting them, helping them in return. I'm not sure... It's like you see some people addicted to alcohol, others to tobacco and other people to violence... I suppose he's addicted to women in some way. He respects them and they respect him, and it's his source of comfort now..."  
Belle listened quietly, imagining how horrible that had to have been on Jefferson and Grace, but she smiled still when he mentioned addiction.   
“What’s your addiction?” she asked curiously, adding: “What is it that you do when you feel low?”  
She had not seen him smoke yet – nor did he seem to drink – and he certainly wasn’t addicted to women, he was probably the worst customer the Saloon had ever known.   
He was intrigued by her question. It seemed she wanted to know his weakness – but at least she wasn’t trying to hide it either.   
“I wouldn’t say I’m an addict, but there have been a few nights in my life where I have consumed so much alcohol that I hardly remembered what happened the night before… But I would not call myself addicted to alcohol at all. In fact, I dislike the taste of most of it. But when I feel like I want to disappear off the world for a while, I have reached out for it in the past.”  
“When?” Belle asked immediately. “What happened to have you reach out?”  
“When my father died,” he answered straight-away. “I drank for about a month – quite badly. Igor is the one who helped me out of it. Helped me through the hangover, then told me to get the fuck over myself.”  
Belle startled a little as he used that swear word so unexpectedly, and he couldn’t help but laugh for a moment before he said: “Apologies. Those were his words at the moment, I meant no disrespect.”  
Belle smiled apologetically and said: “Was it only then that you felt the need for an addiction, or did it come back at a later time?”  
He seemed to hesitate then, but eventually gave in by replying: “Once more… A decade later or so. And you? What is your addiction?”  
Though she was aware that he was dodging the reason why he had returned to alcohol a decade ago, she did not push the matter. Instead, she was glad that he was interested in her as well, and she replied: “Books… I love losing myself in a book. It is where I go when I want to escape and since my father died, I have been extra emotional because I’ve been unable to hide in one. It gives me comfort and strength, and it feels like it’s been taken away.”  
There it was again. She had mentioned those books before, and as he looked around himself, he realized he had plenty of books around him, but were there many she would like herself? Several of his books were law-books, others dealt with basic medicine and biology. They were more informative than actual fiction. But he did have some poetry, he remembered, and as he got up from the sofa, he walked to one of the bookcases, bending over to read the titles on the backs.   
Belle watched curiously, her heart already swelling with love at the thought that he was to give her a book, but she tried not to build up too much hope.  
As he pulled out the book he had been looking for, he hoped she would like it and as he returned to sit beside her, he suddenly noticed the hopeful gaze in her eyes.   
“For you,” he said gently, offering her the book. “If you’ll have it…”  
She took it from his hands, and delighted as she read the title.   
“Shakespeare’s Sonnets!” She gasped in awe. “Oh, Rumple, thank you so much! I love these!”  
She smiled gratefully and while he seemed pleased with himself, she threw her arms around him to hug him. He returned the hug, closing his eyes for a moment as he inhaled her scent, loving the feeling of having her in his arms, and they both only let go of one another when they heard the front door open again.   
“Mister Gold?” Grace’s voice called out. “Miss French?”  
“We’re here,” mister Gold replied as he got up from the sofa, not noticing the adoration with which Belle looked at him, and he headed towards the hallway.   
“Shall I set the table, mister Gold?” the young girl asked politely.   
“That would be lovely, thank you,” he replied, feeling a little awkward because he certainly wasn’t used to having a guest over for dinner.   
“Will mister Dove join us as well?” Grace continued.   
“No, I doubt it very much. He will be here on Sundays though, but I don’t think he’d like to join us today.”  
Belle had actually gotten up from the sofa, still holding the book, and was now standing behind mister Gold.   
“Can I help?” she asked politely, hoping to offer some assistance.   
“That would be most kind,” mister Gold admitted. “You can join Grace and I in the kitchen. We usually cook together.”  
“I’ve already cut up the carrots and potatoes, mister Gold,” Grace said proudly.   
“Excellent, Grace. Perhaps we should have some corn as well?”  
“I’ll get some from the barn!”  
As Grace left again, Belle could not help but feel the warmest affection – both for mister Gold as well as the little girl.   
Noticing that his guest was staring at him, mister Gold blushed a little. “Is everything alright, Miss French?” he asked carefully.   
“More than alright,” she said as she took his hand and squeezed it, and as they looked at one another, they both felt the same butterflies in their stomach. It was all very new, and all very exciting, and as they headed towards the kitchen, he did not let go of her hand. She wouldn’t have wanted him to anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

Preparing dinner with Grace and Rumple was a lot of fun to Belle, who was put in charge of the potatoes while Rumple prepared the steak with carrots and Grace staid around them to offer any assistance they needed. It became clear to Belle that Grace and mister Gold truly felt a great deal of sympathy and respect for one another, yet they weren’t as warm as a father and daughter would be. Still, it was heartwarming to Belle.  
Jefferson arrived just a minute after they were done with preparing dinner, and he was surprised to find Belle with his daughter and mister Gold.  
“Miss French,” he greeted her politely, taking off his hat. “Such a pleasure to see you here. I had no idea you would be joining us for dinner.”  
As he offered her his hand, she shook it and smiled warmly at him.  
“Neither did I,” she admitted honestly. “But I’m happy to be here. I did not know you lived here – or that you had a daughter.”  
“Well now, I assume there are many things we do not know about each other yet,” he said mysteriously. “I did not know you were a friend of mister Gold.”  
Mister Gold did not seem to want to discuss that in too much detail. After all, it was still rather vague what they were precisely. Friends? Lovers? It was too soon to say.  
“Let us have dinner before the food gets cold,” he interrupted them. “Grace, did you fill a can with water yet?”  
“I did, it’s on the table,” she replied quickly.  
“Alright. Let’s get the food then.”  
Everyone around the table was quiet for most of the dinner, but Belle did notice how Jefferson would look at her a few times, a mildly curious gaze in his eyes. It was clear to her that he was burning up with questions, and she was interested in hearing them. Yet the moment they finished their meal, Gold announced: “We best be on our way again now. We have to pick up the rent at Mrs. De Vil’s place. Miss French, is there anything else you need? Some more water? Are you still hungry?”  
“Oh no,” she quickly replied. “I’ve had plenty. It was delicious.” She turned to Grace. “Thank you for all your help, Grace.” Turning to Jefferson, she said: “It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you again in the future.”  
Jefferson smiled, then looked at mister Gold, still not sure what Miss French had been doing there. “I’m sure we will,” he replied. “And I look forward to it.”  
As he bowed his head slightly, mister Gold appeared behind Belle’s seat, sliding it back when she got up. Only a few minutes later, they were outside, and they were just in time to see mister Dove return from the forest, dragging along a cart loaded with wood. Mister Dove was quite the giant, almost appearing twice as big as Rumple was, and as they headed towards him, he looked a little confused as he saw Belle.  
“Dove, this is Miss French.”  
“French?” he repeated slowly, frowning. After he thought for a moment, he said: “Bonjour?”  
Belle was a little confused. The man didn’t seem to be a particularly fast thinker.  
“No, no, I mean Miss French, daughter of Maurice French,” mister Gold explained patiently.  
“The florist,” mister Dove acknowledged after a while, understanding now. “Hello.”  
He did not reach out a hand or anything similar, he just held onto the cart he had been dragging, and his voice was so monotonous that Belle truly wondered if he took any pleasure in meeting her.  
“It’s nice to meet you,” Belle said politely.  
“Condolences,” he suddenly said, as though he had now remembered that Maurice French had died.  
“Thank you,” Belle replied gracefully, and she noticed how he looked at Mister Gold, apparently waiting for more information.  
“Miss French joined me for dinner today,” he told mister Dove. “We are now going to Cruella to collect her rent and then I’ll bring her back home. Perhaps she will join us for dinner on Sunday too?”  
He turned to look at Belle, and she smiled warmly, glad he wanted her to join him for dinner again.  
“I would love that. If you don’t mind?” She turned to mister Dove, who was still looking at mister Gold.  
Mister Dove nodded, apparently pleased with this information. “Have a nice evening.”  
He sounded bored as he said it, and as mister Gold thanked him and then lead Belle back to the carriage, he said: “He seemed to like you.”  
Belle raised an eyebrow.  
“How so?” she wondered, truly not understanding how he could have noticed that.  
“Usually he does not say a word, yet he spoke several sentences in your presence. Even French! I didn’t know he spoke French.”  
Belle frowned in confusion, yet smiled at the same time. What a curious man Dove was then, and after she climbed on top of the carriage, she reached out her hand to mister Gold, pulling him up as well.  
They were on their way once more, back into Storybrooke, where Cruella’s diner on the edge of town was just closing. They were open from morning to evening, but unlike Granny’s, they did not continue serving after dark.  
As Cruella spotted mister Gold on top of the carriage, she smiled, but that smile completely fell away when she spotted Belle besides him. She seemed annoyed as she walked towards the carriage even, her earlier smile completely gone.  
“Here you go,” she said coldly as she offered him an envelope, not looking at him but at Belle instead, apparently displeased.  
“Who is this?” she continued, motioning towards Belle as though she was a thing rather than a person.  
“This is Miss French,” he answered politely. “You may have heard that her father died last week.”  
“Ah, yes,” she said, sneering as she looked at Belle. “The hermit. Then she must be Granny’s newest whore. I didn’t know you took an interest in that clientele.”  
To Belle it felt like she was being punched in the gut – by a stranger no less – and she paled considerably, not knowing how to stand up for herself in this situation and not understanding what she had even done wrong to this woman.  
Mister Gold’s eyes narrowed so fast, so quickly, that he wondered how Cruella still dared to continue speaking, yet she showed no shame whatsoever for saying what she just had.  
“Well, unlike you, Mrs. De Vil, when Belle’s house burned down, she did not kill her husband in the process. I suppose it’s still better to be a whore than a murdering psychopath, don’t you agree?”  
He snatched the envelope with the rent from her hand, and immediately flicked the reins, a little harder than he usually did, causing the horses to ride off in a hurry, while Belle was now trying to make sense of what mister Gold had just said.  
Instead of taking her towards Granny’s, however, he took her back out towards the forest, only slowing down when they were on a deserted road, the last sunlight of day illuminating their path.  
“I’m so sorry about that,” he said gently. “Cruella is… well… cruel.”  
Belle reckoned so much was true, and as she played with her own fingers, she asked nervously: “Was it true what you said? That she killed her own husband in a fire?”  
He was kind of glad that this was what she decided to focus on, and nodded.  
“I believe it is. It was obvious she never loved her husband and only married him for the money. Then, two months after their marriage, his house goes up in flames, he never comes out, yet she escapes without as much as a scratch. That just isn’t right for a couple that is sharing the bed, you know. Not to mention that she appears to be a real gold-digger. She has been flirting with me for years, and now that she saw you, she completely flipped. She can’t stand the idea that if I marry anyone, it won’t be her. Psycho, I tell you.”  
“How did she get away with that murder then?” Belle still wondered, frowning.  
“There was nothing to prove she was guilty, basically. Just speculation.”  
Belle kept quiet, looking out over the meadows by the side of the road and the far-off hills, lost in thought.  
“I’m sorry for what she said,” he said softly. “I wanted to punch her in the face, to be honest.”  
Belle chuckled as she heard his obvious frustration, and she immediately reached out for his hand as she turned to look at him.  
“I think you served her well,” she said calmly, smiling at him. “And I’m sorry for putting you in this position… I mean… I saw how Jefferson looked at me as well… They’re confused, because they think I work for Granny’s…”  
Rumplestiltskin frowned, finding her choice of words peculiar. But he noticed how she was moving closer to him, turning towards him and putting both her hands on his, and he stopped the horses for now, feeling like she wanted to discuss this while he was undistracted by the road.  
“Rumple,” she continued gently, and just the fact that she was using his first name caused his heart to fill with hope. “I have really enjoyed today… Spending time with you… And… I don’t want it to be confusing anymore – to anyone. If… if you’ll still have me…”  
She remained quiet for a moment as she expectantly waited for his reply, but all he could do was stare.  
She looked so hopeful and he did not immediately realize what it was that she meant. It certainly didn’t cross his mind that she was already saying yes to his proposal.  
Noticing his silence, she smiled and asked: “Do you still want to marry me, Rumple?”  
His heart started racing, his mind hardly able to keep up, but he nodded immediately, and noticing the confusion on his face, Belle gently laughed. “I want to marry you too!”  
He was completely paralyzed, a half-smile on his face as he looked at her, hardly believing what was happening. She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and this seemed to wake him up a little bit, and he turned his head to look at her, still wondering if she wasn’t joking – if she was completely serious about this.  
“Are you sure?” was the first thing he asked, and as she laughed in reply, he added: “I mean… are you sure you don’t need more time to think?”  
“No…” She shook her head. “I don’t need more time to think. I may still be in mourning, but you are able to make me smile – and you are a wonderful, kind man, who has treated me with nothing but affection. I would be honored to be your wife.”  
He smiled once more, almost incredulously as he looked at her beautiful face, allowing himself to drown in her blue eyes. When she leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, he startled a little, not used to the feeling of such softness against his own lips, and as she quickly pulled back again, he grinned once more, unable to believe that she was to become his, just like he was to become hers.  
“It will be my honor, Belle,” he said softly, lifting her hand and pressing a slow kiss onto its back. “You are so beautiful, intelligent and kind. I will try to make you happy – every day that we are together.”  
He kissed her hand again, closing his eyes this time, and Belle felt truly humbled to hear those words.  
When he looked up again, he was reminded of the situation they were in, and he added: “When would you like to marry though, Belle? Do you need more time?”  
She shook her head. “The sooner, the better,” she said determinedly. “People will talk about us anyway, and I don’t want to stay in the Saloon any longer than necessary. The men already expect me to bed them, and I don’t want to get their hopes up.”  
He nodded. "I fear you may be right about that... And I understand. I want to get you out of that environment as soon as possible. But I also want you to know that there is no rush on things - on personal things, do you understand?"  
Belle hesitated for a moment, thinking about what he meant precisely, and as he noticed her hesitation, he immediately explained: "You don't need to sleep with me and I want to give you as much space as you need. Your father's loss will be hard enough for you to process without me expecting any attention. Take your time. But talk to me when you need someone to talk to. When I'm your husband, that is what I expect most - your honesty and your thoughts. And your company when you feel you want to share it with me."  
Belle listened patiently and was slightly stunned because he still did not speak of love or attraction or of physical expectations - even while she knew her love for him was growing every hour she spent with him. Feeling grateful for his patience, she moved closer to him and embraced him, hugging him tightly and burrowing her face in his neck as she did so.  
He closed his eyes as well as he returned the hug and breathed in her scent. He hadn’t expected her to hug him, but he was not going to complain about it – he truly enjoyed it. She was the sweetest person he had ever met, and he whispered: "I'm really glad you want to marry me, Belle. I hope I can be the husband you deserve."  
Looking up at him, she felt like he shouldn't worry about himself. He was already being more than she had ever expected of a man, and as she put her finger on his lip, he kept quiet, his mouth slightly open as he looked at her, aware how she was coming closer to him once more, until their lips were hardly more than an inch apart.  
He wanted to mutter an apology for not knowing much about kissing, but as he felt her lips on his, that thought quickly abandoned his mind. She didn't pull back as quickly as before this time, and he felt the butterflies whirl in his stomach as she moved her lips over his, gently parting from his mouth to look at him. It was clear from both of their expressions that they were enjoying this - that it allowed them to relax and dream - and as she moved closer again, he met her with his own desire, touching her cheek as he pulled her in closer, determined to taste her more.  
They startled when one of the horses whinnied - for no reason at all - and laughed as they looked at one another.  
As much as he would have liked to indulge himself in her kisses, he knew that she needed to be brought back to the saloon, and there was much for him to arrange.  
"I should bring you back," he said softly. "And tomorrow morning, I will make arrangements with reverend Nolan. I will try to wed you by noon, if that is alright with you?"  
She nodded eagerly, the idea of waiting as much as twelve hours unbearable to her, and he was relieved to see her smile.  
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he took the reins once more.  
"My sweet Belle... You have no idea how happy you've just made me."  
"And you me," she replied gently, resting her head against his shoulder as the horses continued on their way. "I will try and be a good wife to you, deserving of your love and affection..."  
He could not ignore the nervous knot in his stomach: she already had his love, he knew that much. But only time could tell how much more love she would inspire in him. She deserved all the love in the world, and if it was possible for him to give her that, he would.


	7. Chapter 7

To say that the girls at the saloon were surprised by Belle's news of the wedding, was an understatement. Several did not believe her, others thought that mister Gold must have fooled her. The only ones that seemed to take her word for it, were Emma, Red and Mulan, who spent the morning doing Belle's hair and fixing her dress. She wore a yellow one - one that had once belonged to Mulan, but which she had never worn.   
"I don't like puffy dresses," Mulan had explained. "I like things that slim my figure a bit more."  
"Men like these dresses," Red had assured her. "Makes them feel like they're unwrapping things..."  
Emma, at the mention of unwrapping, got a little worried: "Are you sure about this, Belle? Do you need any more help - tips or tricks perhaps - for tonight?"  
Belle did not dare to say that she was not obliged to anything. Perhaps there was an understanding between herself and Rumple - but there wasn't one between her and the rest of the world - after all: newlyweds were still expected to consummate their wedding on their wedding night - and she said shyly: "All tips are welcome..."  
"Don't rush it," was Red's immediate advice. "Don't hesitate to take it slow - make him work for you and your body. Let his kisses earn him some bare skin on your behalf. If you take it slow and you like what he is doing, your body will be ready for him - you won't be as tight and you'll be so full of desire that you want him to enter you."  
"Don't forget to breathe," Mulan continued. "Biting your lip and sucking your breath might make you feel sexy, but you need to relax, especially your first time. Don't brace yourself for things by holding your breath, just keep on breathing and your body will relax. It won't hurt much that way. And drink lots of water."  
Belle frowned, not completely understanding yet how all that was relevant, but she would take the advice to heart regardless.   
"Make sure all your smiles are genuine. Don't fake smiles. If something is unpleasant to you, he has to know, but if something feels good, smile - so that he knows that too. It's alright to smile and laugh - desirable even, in my opinion. Don't hide your discomfort - not from your husband. We sometimes do that in order to get it over and done with when we have a bad client, but it's not something you should do in the company of your husband. If he gets the impression that something bad he is doing is actually working, he won't stop doing it. So be honest."  
Belle really appreciated all the tips. Strange as it seemed, she wasn't scared for the wedding night. She was looking forward to it.   
They packed up her clothes and headed downstairs to wait for mister Gold, and as Granny saw her come down the stairs, she huffed and said: "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. Wouldn't be the first time a man has second thoughts about marrying one of my girls."  
Those words did fill Belle's mind with doubts for a few minutes. Would he really have cold feet? They had parted on such good terms the night before, surely he was looking forward to their marriage and married life as much as she was?   
When Grace suddenly entered the saloon - dressed more elegantly than any girl in the saloon itself - Belle's heart stopped for a moment. The girl was wearing a lovely white dress, with a pink ribbon around her waist, and she headed straight to Belle.  
"Oh I love your dress, Miss French!" she said eagerly. "It's so pretty! I had to let you know that my father will come to get you in five minutes. Mister Gold said everything is arranged with the reverend and he’ll be waiting for you at the church."  
This was the moment where the other girls in the saloon realized that Belle had not been mistaken about mister Gold's intentions to marry her, but that did not mean that they suddenly congratulated her. Several seemed jealous, and Belle was honestly glad when Jefferson entered the saloon, smiling when he saw Belle and offering her his arm.  
"I was charged with taking you to church," he told her warmly. "Something about it being bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Will you do me the honors?"  
Belle didn't hesitate to take his arm, and was wished all the best by Mulan and Red. Emma sighed: "I wish I could see the wedding too..." and that made Belle feel a little sad that the girls were shunned from church. It was unfair. Emma, Mulan and Red had been so kind to her. They shouldn’t be excluded more from this society than they already were.  
But at the same time, she was also relieved that reverend Nolan had made an exception for her. What if he would have told mister Gold he was not allowed to marry her because of her associations with the Saloon? That would have been truly dreadful.   
Jefferson helped Belle on the carriage, while Grace sat between them as they headed to church.   
Mister Dove stood outside the church door and headed inside when he saw them coming. There wasn’t a single other carriage in sight, and as Jefferson helped Grace and Belle down the carriage, they could hear music coming from inside the church. Someone was playing the organ, and it was the first time Belle had heard music like that, and she was so distracted that she did not immediately notice how Jefferson offered her his arm again.   
“Miss French?” he asked gently, and as he got her attention, he continued: “Will you allow me to give you away?”  
As she realized what he was asking, a lump came to her throat, thinking of her poor father, but knowing that she would cry if she gave it more thought, she quickly shook the thought away and nodded.   
Grace smiled and rushed into the church as well, and Jefferson and Belle slowly walked in behind her.   
Mister Gold had his back turned towards them, and Belle could see it was Dove – the great and awkward servant – who was playing the organ flawlessly. He seemed to be a man of many surprises, and as Belle looked towards the reverend, she saw his encouraging smile and felt like this was truly the right thing to do. It would change her life, but for the better. She would be part of a family again, and she tried not to cry as she stopped besides mister Gold, who looked at her with nothing but affection and immediately picked up on her emotions. As he took her hand and squeezed it, she relaxed a little, and as the music stopped and the service began, she did not take her eyes off of her soon-to-be husband. He was so beautiful and she considered herself to be the luckiest girl in town.   
Meanwhile, mister Gold was still convinced this would all go wrong, that she would reject him, and his palms were sweating as the reverend was working up to the ‘I do’s.   
His own voice trembled, and he feared his words were hardly audible at all, but when Belle said “I do”, she did so with all the certainty in the world, and it was at that moment that he realized that this was official – that she truly did want him – or that she at least tolerated him enough to spend the rest of her life with him.   
As reverend Nolan finally said: “You may now kiss the bride”, it was actually Belle who stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, for he was too numb and emotional to even register the words.   
Grace and Jefferson cheered while mister Dove applauded as they left the church again, and they all headed to the carriage. This time it were Dove, Grace and Jefferson that sat at the front, while Rumple and Belle actually took their places in the carriage itself, sitting next to one another while Belle lovingly stared into her husband’s eyes.   
She had not expected him to cry when he suddenly did, and he tried to turn away from her so that she would not have to see him like this, yet she would not have any of that.   
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked sweetly, her voice laced with worry.   
It was difficult to put into words for him, and after sniffing a few times, he admitted: “I can’t believe you would want to marry me. Yet you look at me with real compassion, and with nothing but kind emotions in your eyes.”   
She rubbed his back, not backing away from him. “I like you,” she admitted softly. “I can love you, too… That’s why I married you, husband.”  
Through his tears, he smiled as she called him such. “And I will love you too,” he promised her solemnly. “With all my heart. With everything I’ve got.”   
She put her hand on the back of his head and gently pulled him closer, kissing him sweetly as the carriage continued its way to their home.   
Grace, Jefferson and Dove did not join them inside the house that day, but instead retreated to their own cottages. All Dove did was carry Belle’s bag of clothing to the porch, and as Belle was about to enter the house, mister Gold stopped her.   
“Please,” he said gently. “According to tradition, I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold.”  
Belle hesitated, not sure if that was wise, since he still had his limp and needed his cane to walk. She also saw how he was looking at her, as though he was calculating the best way to carry her, and she gently suggested: “Shall I climb on your back?”  
As she said it, she realized how silly that idea was, but it was one that she could imagine to work. He frowned, appearing a little offended, and said: “We are not monkeys, Belle. I hope I can carry you with more grace than that.”  
Belle couldn’t help but chuckle at those words, and she was glad to see he was amused as well. As he leaned on his cane with one arm, he held his other arm open for her to get closer.   
“If you could put your arms around my neck and shoulder, and if you would allow me to carry your weight underneath your bottom, I think I should manage rather gracefully.”  
She put her arms firmly around him, and as he asked her to jump, she did, most of her weight around his neck now. She was also aware of his hand beneath her bum, holding her as close to him as he could, and he panted slightly as he leaned on his cane and took the few first steps within the house before he let her down as gently as he could.   
Belle gulped as she looked at him, wondering if she was allowed to kiss him in gratitude now, but he interrupted the moment by saying: “I will get your bag now!”  
And as he went off to the porch to retrieve her bag, she waited by the door, closing it behind him as he stepped inside.   
“Come,” he said gently. “Let me show you to your room. Grace and Jefferson prepared it for you this morning.”   
They headed up the stairs, Belle carrying her own bag as she followed behind her husband while he struggled slightly with his limp, and he led her to a room on the east side, almost twice as large as her room at Granny’s had been. The furniture looked expensive – a dark oak closet for her clothes, a dark oak bed with red sheets, and dark red curtains in front of the window. Behind it she could look out over the forest and river, and there was a willow tree not too far from her window.   
There was even a desk, with several books laying on top of it, and as she looked at those, mister Gold said: “I picked them from my own collection… I thought… Perhaps you would like them.”  
Not only were they poetry books, but also other prose stories and plays were amongst them, and Belle smiled warmly.   
“They are wonderful, husband…”  
He smiled shyly, still getting used to being called that way.   
“Would you… Would you like some time to freshen up, perhaps?” he suggested kindly. “Or to rest? You could sort out your clothing in the cupboard. I was thinking that we could go to the general store perhaps? Get you anything else you might need. I want you to be comfortable here…”  
He looked so eager to please her that it felt like her heart was bursting from the generous amount of attention and devotion he bestowed on her.   
“Thank you so much,” she said warmly. “I will unpack my things and join you shortly,” she assured him.  
He seemed pleased with that answer and nodded before he left the room and headed downstairs.  
As Belle unpacked her things, she laid all of her clothes onto the bed first, before she opened up the dresser and frowned, seeing some clothes on the bottom. As she picked them up, she started blushing, noticing that they were not just normal clothes, but actually lingerie – laced corsets and tight undergarments, as well as stockings that were far too sexy for wearing to church.  
She could not imagine Rumple buying those for her, and actually felt relieved when she found a note at the bottom of the dresser.   
“Dear miss French – or should I rather write Mrs. Gold now?  
I do hope you enjoy my gift to you and your husband. These are some undergarments by my own design and though I often make and gift these to the girls at the brothel, they are not available to the general public of Storybrooke. I hope that you can make your nightlife an adventure with these – as I believe both you and mister Gold deserve. Should you ever grow tired of them, or should they not be to your liking, then I would gladly discuss with you or mister Gold how I can improve them. If you dislike these, then I will not feel insulted if you decide to throw them in the hearth instead.   
This is my way of wishing you a long and happy marriage, and I hope it can start off with an adventurous wedding night.   
Your new, faithful friend and neighbor,  
Jefferson.”  
Belle’s cheeks were flushing as she then went through all the undergarments and corsets she had been gifted by Jefferson. There were so many that she wondered how many he owned precisely – and why they were now all being gifted to her instead of to any of the other girls at the brothel. Perhaps some of them weren’t revealing enough? Others, on the other hand, hardly covered any skin at all, and she had to admit that she was dying to try some of those sets out. She was glad to also find some night robes in the dresser – probably also left by Jefferson. Some were see-through while others weren’t, and as she allowed her mind to wander, she was hardly aware of how much time passed while she was putting away her clothes and getting used to her new room.   
One thing she wondered though, was where her husband’s room was, and she was glad to find that his room was opposite hers – another dark, yet simpler bedroom, with black curtains and several hides on the floor around the bed.   
When she finally headed downstairs, her cheeks were still flushing, but her husband hardly noticed. He still found her the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and the sight of her made him emotional. She noticed it again, and wondered: “Sweet husband, why are you so sad?”  
A tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled: “I’m not sad, sweet Belle. I am so glad that you are here… I never thought anyone would want to live with me for anything but my money.”  
“I do,” she assured him gently, taking a step closer to him to kiss him, and he kissed her back, trembling and crying still, and as she found this to be very peculiar, she wondered: “Why does this make you so emotional though? Did something ever happen in the past?”   
He wondered how she could have guessed that, but nodded, and deciding to be honest with her, he admitted: “There was once a woman – Milah – who pretended to love me. I wanted to give my heart to her in return, to be the best husband I could be to her – but she was unfaithful. The night before our wedding, she was already betraying me by sleeping with another man – a man she had conspired with all the months before, to get to know me, to marry me, and then to make it off with my fortune. Mister Dove was the one who figured it out, who informed me of what was happening, and it’s thanks to him I could stop that marriage before I would have ended up with nothing at all. That’s why I’m so emotional, Belle… Because I thought I could never ever find anyone who would truly want me for what I am – without feeding me lies – yet here you are.”  
As tears still streamed down his face, Belle stood on her tiptoes to kiss each and every tear away, glad that he had told her this story. And though she was curious about what had happened to the woman and her lover, she decided not to ask him. Their story was not as important to hers as his was, and he was right in front of her, needing her reassurance and her love, and she would give as much of it as she could.   
“Thank you for telling me,” she said softly. “I won’t ever hurt you – not willingly, at least. I promise you that.”   
He hugged her close, leaning on her, hoping she did not find him clingy or annoying, but it was truly an emotional day for him, and he secretly wondered if she was more stable than him because she had already cried so much in the days before.   
“Come,” he said finally. “Let’s head into town. Did you see anything you need? We can go and have something to eat as well. Let’s not worry about cooking dinner on our wedding day!”


	8. Chapter 8

It was as though word of their marriage had already spread across all of Storybrooke, and Belle noticed the way people responded to it.   
It wasn’t pleasant.   
As they headed towards the general store, they came across Maleficent and Lily – both of whom did not even look at Belle or her husband, but straight out ignored them. Belle found this to be quite annoying, considering the fact they had sat together in Granny’s saloon earlier that morning, but decided to bite her tongue.   
Mister Clark congratulated them on their marriage, but spent most of the time they were browsing the store looking at Belle and Rumple as though he was trying to figure out how it was possible that those two were now married. He still seemed confused when he charged them for the bread, butter, ham, soap and hairbrush.   
As they brought it to the cart, they passed by doctor Whale and Igor. The first seemed frustrated, and though he wished them the best, he did not do so warmly. Igor looked at Belle with somewhat of a wistful gaze, as though he regretted that she was married now.   
Both Rumple and Belle noticed that people in Storybrooke weren’t warm towards their marriage, in fact, they seemed spiteful and jealous, and it made them uncomfortable.   
“I would rather not go to Cruella’s,” Rumple admitted, and he suggested: “We could go to the Sleeping Beauty Inn… They only have a small kitchen, and it’s very expensive, but… It is the proper occasion, I would say.”  
Belle was eager to accept, and as they headed to the inn on Main Street, they noticed they were alone in the establishment, with Philip sitting behind one of the tables as he was reading the local newspaper. As he looked up, he smiled and said: “Storybrooke’s newlyweds! Welcome! How may we serve you?”  
It was a relief that Philip was genuinely warm towards them, and he seemed pleased that they had chosen to visit the inn to have dinner.   
“How wonderful of you to come here today! Had you told us sooner, we could have even made you a wedding cake! Aurora is very fond of baking lately – we get so little opportunities to do it though – business hasn’t been great the past months. Not many investors visit Storybrooke anymore since they published that article in the Boston Times that there’s nothing left in our mines. It’s like there are no rich men passing by Storybrooke anymore!”  
As he noticed Belle’s interested, but confused gaze, he explained: “Our rooms are bigger and more luxurious than those at the Saloon – but no one with friends or family in Storybrooke actually stays here. Businessmen are our only customers, and it happens rarely that we have customers from within town itself. But this is great – I am so glad you came here today! I will ask Aurora to come and inform you of today’s menu!”   
Belle was certainly charmed by Philip’s warm attitude, and it also pleased Rumple that they were welcome there. Last time he had come to the inn for a meal, had been when Aurora’s mother had still been the one in charge. He knew that there was plenty of wealth in the family, and that that was probably the reason why the inn was still standing, even while business was so bad for them.   
Aurora informed them that she could have a vegetable soup ready for them in about fifteen minutes and that they could either have some rabbit stew in an hour, or some veal instead. They opted for the rabbit stew, and Aurora continued: “And how would you like your potatoes to go with that? Cooked, baked, mashed? Jacket potato?”  
They both agreed on mashed potato – looking at each other and wondering if it was what they both liked best – and Aurora left them behind to go and prepare what they had ordered in the kitchen.  
Philip came by with two bottles of wine – both red – and asked them which one they would prefer.   
They both hesitated and Rumple admitted: “We are not too fond of wine. Perhaps some water or any juice instead?”  
This surprised Philip, and he asked: “Are you sure? It is your wedding day, after all.”  
“Perhaps one glass?” Belle suggested softly. “And then Philip and Aurora can drink a glass as well? As a means of toasting?”  
Rumple was quick to agree to that, and Philip seemed very pleased as well. “Of course! I will get you a can of water as well, and we could toast to your marriage before we serve the main course. No problem at all!”   
As they sat in the empty room while Philip joined Aurora in the kitchen, Belle looked at Rumple’s hand as it lay in front of her on the table and reached out for it, looking at him a little sadly.   
“Are you sad?” he asked before she could open her mouth, and she smiled as she said: “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”   
He shrugged and took a deep breath.   
“It’s just… I’m happy you married me – truly grateful – and though I have never cared for most of the people in Storybrooke… I see the way they look at us – at you – and I feel so bad for you. You deserve so much better, Belle.”   
Belle felt her heart break a little, and she said: “I find it really unfair on you too. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and still people seem so spiteful towards us. I wish I knew how to change their opinions, but I really know of no way at all.”  
He tightly held her hand, squeezing it so that she could feel his support. “They say marriage faces its trials and tribulations… Perhaps this is what we must face together, something we must overcome. We shouldn’t have to hide from the people of Storybrooke in order to be happy.”  
Belle knew precisely what he was talking about, and added jokingly: “Though Aurora and Philip don’t seem to mind that we come here for dinner, I believe. They’re very kind.”  
“Yes, they are,” Rumple admitted with a chuckle. “We can come here each week, if you like. Perhaps we can let them know we’ll be back next week?”  
“Let’s wait until after we’ve tried the main course,” Belle said with a naughty wink. “Who knows – we might not like it here.”  
They both laughed, and let go of each other’s hands when Philip entered with a can of water and some glasses and then continued with setting the table.   
The soup was delicious and afterwards, they opened the bottle of wine and toasted to the marriage.   
“May your marriage be as happy as that of myself and Aurora!” Philip said warmly, and though Rumple found it to be a rather strange and self-centered way to deliver a toast, Belle thought it was very sweet. Both Belle and Rumple agreed after a few bites of their main meal that it was delicious, and asked Aurora and Philip if they could come back next Friday – and other Fridays after that.   
They eagerly accepted and to celebrate, Aurora even brought out some pudding she had made while they were having their dinner.   
The good food and the conversation they had had before dinner had lifted their spirits, and when they left the inn to head back into the street, they did so with their heads raised and with happy smiles on their faces. Belle linked her arm with Rumple’s as they walked down Main Street, and not a single glare could get them down.   
As they headed back to the carriage, Rumple didn’t immediately take the reins, and he gently said: “Belle, the offer I made the other day still stands. If you want to see your old house and garden, I could drive past it.”   
Belle hesitated, but shook her head. “Not today, sweet husband. It’s been such a good day so far, I’d hate to ruin it with my crying.”  
“Your crying would not ruin it,” he assured her in a kind voice. “Nothing can ruin this day. It’s a blessing.”  
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to its back, something which he did with such passion that Belle could not help but lean into him and look at him in full adoration.   
People looked at them as they rode by, but they did not look back. They only had eyes for one another, and as they headed back home, they did not hear the gossip behind their backs. They didn’t care either and spoke of the fast approaching summer, about growing roses in the garden and about the upcoming dinner on Sunday.   
At home, they put away their purchases before they took a seat in the living room, deciding that it would be nice to read until bedtime, and they were perfectly content as Rumple sat in the armchair by the fire and Belle in the sofa opposite it, books on their laps and smiles on their faces. He would sometimes look at his wife, and she sometimes at him, checking if the other was still content, but they both were, and when their eyes met, they smiled warmly.   
“Would you like something to drink, husband?” she asked him as she had gotten thirsty herself.   
“Ah, yes, my sweet wife,” he said graciously, finding it amusing how she called him husband and how he was able to call her wife, and he watched her as she headed into the kitchen, listening as she acquainted herself with the contents of all the cupboards, and eventually returned with two mugs of apple juice.  
He looked up into her eyes as he took it from her, admitting in hardly more than a whisper: “You are so beautiful, Belle.”  
She blushed as she smiled at him, and as she was at a loss for words because of that compliment, she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on his forehead, which he accepted with his eyes closed.   
She returned to her seat, still blushing, and sipped quietly from her mug of apple juice, noticing how it was getting darker outside, something which Rumple was beginning to notice as well.   
“It will soon be nighttime,” he said softy, gazing out the window. “I usually go to bed rather early – so that I wake at the first light of day again. And you?”  
She shrugged. “I must admit that I like reading in the evening and at night…” She blushed a little. “I often sleep in as well.”  
He chuckled because of that.   
“Well well, perhaps marrying you wasn’t such a good idea after all,” he teased her. “How shall we ever overcome this?”  
She was still blushing, and though she knew he was joking, her reply was serious: “I will try and adjust. Perhaps it is nice to read more in the morning, and less in the evenings.”   
He looked at her in slight confusion. He certainly hadn’t expected her to change her habits so willingly.   
“I should go and get ready for bed then,” she continued softly. “If you will excuse me, my dear husband.”  
As she left the room, he was left rather perplexed, wondering for a moment what he was expected to do now. He should head up after she was ready, to go and wish her a good night. Or should he head up already, and get ready as well?  
He decided on the latter, and followed only a few minutes after she had gone upstairs, heading into his room to undress, and when he was completely naked, he quickly put on his white nightshirt. He usually felt more at ease in his own home when he undressed, but he could not help but fear she would come into his room to wish him a goodnight and see him so exposed.   
When he was done, he remained in his room and lit a few candles, opening the door to the hallway so he could hear when she went to bed and wish her a good night. He heard the floorboards creak as she moved about, and he could hear how she put her brush down, then picked it up again, then put it down again, opened the door of her cupboard, closed it again, opened it again, how the chair that stood in front of the boudoir moved, and he wondered just how long women liked to spend in front of the mirror before night arrived.   
He sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling his thumbs a little nervously, telling himself that he could just head up to her door and knock and wish her a good night, but he wanted to do this right.  
When he heard her door open instead, he immediately got up from the bed, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw her in his doorframe – the light of the candles enough to show him that she was wearing a see-through nightgown, with some white lingerie underneath that showed him the exact curve of her hips, and it was like he had forgotten how to breathe. Was this even real?  
She hesitated for a moment before she entered, but she too was too nervous to speak and as she headed over to him, looking at his perplexed expression, she smiled bravely.   
“May I come into your bed, husband?” she asked sweetly, her lip trembling, and though he attributed that tremble to her nerves or discomfort, he did not realize she was trembling from excitement instead.   
He wanted to say that she did not have to, but as he stood to the side to look at his own bed, as though he was wondering how it had gotten there – not like it hadn’t always been there – Belle took that slight turn of his shoulders as a way to slip past him, onto the bed, where she sat on the far side and looked at him with a shy smile, wondering why he was still standing.   
“A-are you sure?” he asked quietly, as though he was afraid anyone would hear, and as she nodded eagerly, he decided that she had made up her mind then.   
He headed to the door to close it – almost afraid anyone would enter it – and then slowly limped to his bed – wondering if he should have gotten something else to wear, imagining him to look stupid in his night gown, especially compared to how beautiful she was and how amazingly she was dressed for the occasion.   
As he sat beside her, slowly moving his own legs onto the bed, he realized how awkward he felt, and he added: “You really don’t have to, you know. You can sleep in your own bed, you don’t own me anything. No one has to know it if you don’t want to sleep with me…”  
Belle frowned, slightly insulted by the proposal.   
“Stop fussing, Rumple. I want to sleep with you. And even if we don’t have any actual… you know… intercourse… tonight… then I still want to try and see what it is men and women do… Don’t you?”  
He felt a nervous lump in his throat, but he nodded, admitting that he had been curious about that for a long while.   
As Belle suddenly remembered something, she suddenly jumped up from the bed, running around it towards the door. “I just remembered something, hold on!”  
Rumple was utterly confused as she left his room again, heading downstairs. He heard her rummage through the dark kitchen, and when she returned, she had a large jug of water with her, as well as a cup.  
“In case we get thirsty!” she said eagerly, putting the water and the jug on his nightstand, and though he was confused because he did not know of the tips Belle had received from the girls, Belle had not forgotten them.   
She needed to breathe – to relax – and take her time. And when she was thirsty, she had to drink. That was what she had remembered most. She wondered how fast Rumple would be with the unwrapping, but judging on the quiet way in which he waited for her in bed, she had a feeling that perhaps it was going to be a long night… She would not complain.


	9. Chapter 9

Rumplestiltskin could not recall another time in his life where he had been this nervous, and as he sat on the bed, his legs awkwardly in front of him, almost numb from excitement, he looked at Belle with a slightly frightful gaze. She looked hopeful however, and beautiful and kind and he did not know why. What was she even expecting of him right now? He was so nervous he wouldn’t have been able to spell his name, had she asked him.  
She moved closer, putting one hand on his before she sat up on her knees so she could reach his cheek more easily, and she kissed it gently, noticing how he began to tremble.  
She had heard plenty of times that girls got nervous for their first time – that some were emotional wrecks that first night, but she had never expected her husband to be so anxious about spending a night with her. Out of all the tips she had received, she had received none on how to make her husband relax, and so she had to depend completely on her instincts in this.  
He hardly responded to her kiss on his cheek, and when she gently kissed his lips and found that he hardly responded to that either, she knew she had to take a few steps back.  
“Rumple?” she asked sweetly. “Will you lie down with me? On your side?”  
He nervously looked away, but nodded, moving to lay on his side, his head on his pillow, but still avoiding her gaze when she lay down too, moving her pillow a little closer to his.  
“Look at me,” she said softly, putting her hand on his once more, and he did not dare to disobey her, gazing into her eyes with a frightful look.  
Belle knew what that expression meant and did not fully understand how he could be frightened – of her, of all people!  
“Talk to me,” she urged him as she did not let go of his gaze. “You are my husband. I will be honest with you, but you have to be honest with me too. What’s wrong?”  
“This can’t be real,” he said weakly, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “You can’t be really here – really choosing to sleep with me.”  
Belle didn’t know how she could convince him this was real – that she did want him – not without scaring him further, at least.  
“It is real,” she insisted softly. “Tell me what to do so I can make you believe I choose this.”  
“If I tell you what to do, then how do I know the choice is yours?” he replied weakly.  
“Then let’s do something we already know how to do,” she said softly. “Something you’re good at.”  
He frowned, not knowing what she was talking about, and she smiled as she suggested: “We could kiss, Rumple. Nothing more, nothing less. Just kiss.”  
He felt his heart jump as he realized she thought he was good at kissing. It was a much-needed boost to his ego, and he smiled in return, realizing that he could do that.  
“Just kiss?” he repeated hopefully.  
“I would really like that,” she said as she nodded encouragingly, moving a little closer to him, speaking more quietly because she was so close now. “Will you hold me so I’m warm?” she dared to ask, hoping it would not scare him, because the truth was that she was warm enough right now, but she wanted to empower him, to make him feel like he was the one that was keeping her warm.  
“Then share my pillow,” he offered nervously, but still kindly as he moved back, opening his arms to invite her in, and she moved against him, her hands resting on his chest while their noses were close enough to touch. For a moment she wondered if there was anything left to say, and she moved her lips closer to his, looking into his eyes for a sign that he did not mind, and when he closed his eyes, she knew that he was calm again and she kissed him.  
She truly enjoyed their kisses, closing her eyes as well as she rested a hand on his cheek, gently moving the hair that fell into his face away, and he had his hand carefully on her shoulder, hardly daring to move it out of fear he was outstepping his bounds.  
Belle started to realize that perhaps it would take much longer before he would be comfortable enough around her to have any actual intercourse, but she could not complain about sharing those sweet kisses with him.  
Breaking their kiss, she looked at him and whispered: “Would you feel more comfortable if I went to my room and put on another nightdress?”  
He let his eyes roam over her body once more, realizing that her beauty was making him more insecure of himself, and he nearly had tears in his eyes as he tried to figure out what he wanted.  
Upon noticing this, Belle immediately pressed another sweet kiss to his lips, saying: “It’s alright, Rumple… You’re allowed to look, you know. You’re not doing anything wrong, but if this makes you feel bad, I will change into something else for you.”  
“You’re just so beautiful,” he whispered emotionally.  
“So are you,” she insisted, feeling like he was the most handsome man in town, but as he immediately started shaking his head, she frowned. “Rumple, listen to me… You’re beautiful. You’re handsome. I married you – not just for your kindness – but because I felt attraction between us, and I want to get to know you… all of you!”  
He shook his head miserably. “You say that now, but once you see me – see what I truly look like – what I truly am – you will realize how I don’t match up to your dreams, how I’m nothing without my fine suits, while I’ll always know you are a million times better than me.”  
“That’s nonsense,” Belle tried to convince him. “I bet that’s not true. You’re putting that in your own mind before you’ve given me a chance to make up mine.”  
“But it’s how you’ll feel once you see me,” he muttered, convinced he was right.  
“I don’t believe that,” Belle insisted.  
But Rumple did. He kept on hearing Milah’s words in his mind – the words she had spoken when he had confronted her about her cheating on him.

_“You think it’s strange a woman would cheat on you, Rumford? You are hardly a man – so small and weak and insecure – a cripple, with no redeeming features. Do you think I would enjoy you wriggling between my legs on our wedding night? You really believed I wanted you for anything but your money? You’re a fool to believe in such fairy tales!”_

As he teared up, Belle didn’t know what to do for a moment, and he cried: “How could you enjoy a cripple like me wriggling between your legs?”  
Belle was alarmed by the way he said this, and she knew those weren’t his words. She demanded: “Who said that? Whose words are that?”  
As he remained quiet, sobbing, she guessed his answer instead: “Did that woman say it? The one that wanted your money?”  
While he nodded, knowing he had to be honest with her, Belle seemed upset – with Milah, not with him.  
“That woman was a bitch, Rumple,” she said in a frustrated tone, feeling nothing but anger at the thought of a woman breaking her husband like that. “You should forget everything she ever told you. Now – trust me. And do as I say. Take off that nightshirt,” she continued decisively. “Take it off and show me what you look like, and then let me judge you. You already seem to think I will hate everything about you, so let me confirm or deny it. Come on! Take it off!”  
She wasn’t being particularly patient with him, but she could not argue with him while he was so full of self-pity that he could not see her love. The sooner she got Milah’s thoughts out of his head, the better, and so she wasted no time.  
He hesitated for a while, but moved away from her and turned his back to her, putting his feet on the floor and standing up – still not daring to face her while he slowly moved his nightshirt over his head, tossing it on the floor as he tried to muster up the courage to turn around.  
Belle, however, wasn’t disgusted by what she saw so far. In fact, she was turned on and she could not help but smile as she said: “I like your butt…”  
He seemed to turn his head a little in terror because of that statement, and Belle softly chuckled.  
“It’s really cute…” she continued. “And your hips are so small – but that’s a good thing! Don’t worry about that. And your shoulders are broad in comparison, I like that. Don’t hunch though, you usually never hunch…”  
As he stood a little straighter at her command, he hoped she would be as pleased about his front as she was about his back, but he did not dare to turn around just yet.  
When he heard Belle move over towards him, he tensed up, and when he felt her rest her hands on his back, he was beginning to realize what a bad idea this had been. Perhaps he should not have married her, perhaps it had been better if he had just supported her with money if he took so much pity on her. Had he ever wanted any of this in the first place? To be so vulnerable before her? Wasn’t that why he had never gone to a prostitute either?  
“Your skin is soft,” she said softly, letting her hands roam over his back, putting them down in his side, letting her fingers ghost over his skin there.  
To her surprise, he suddenly chuckled, and she smiled. “Are you ticklish, husband?”  
“Well, you _are_ tickling me,” he admitted with a blush, but it was like those few smiles were breaking through his sadness, and he continued a little more bravely: “Shall I turn around?”  
“Are you just saying that now to stop me from tickling you?” she teased him, tickling him once more, and as he giggled, he suddenly became aware that his member was slowly getting aroused.  
He had feared he would be unable to get it up before – and though he wasn’t fully erect yet, it seemed like that fear had been in vain. He was definitely turned on by what was happening.  
Covering his private parts with his hands, he eventually turned around, and Belle looked at him in disbelief, looking from his legs to his stomach, to his chest and all the way down again. If anything, she looked confused, and he noticed it.  
“Not what you expected?” he asked a little sadly, and she didn’t seem to want to agree or disagree with that.  
“To be honest, I’m wondering why you are so shy. I must be missing something…”  
She smiled as she looked at him, putting her hands on his chest for a moment.  
“You are so smooth, Rumple… I don’t understand… Most men are said to be so hairy. Well – I know my dad was – you should have seen his back!”  
“They say it’s a sign of masculinity,” he muttered. “Being hairy and stuff.”  
Belle shook her head as she chuckled, then stroked his head.  
“Being hairy isn’t necessarily sexy. You have plenty of hair where it matters, sweetheart. To be honest, I’d much rather touch a man who isn’t as hairy… May I?”  
He was surprised that she would want that, but could not stop himself from nodding. He was slowly beginning to relax, to believe he wasn’t repulsive – at least not to her.  
She let her hands trace his chest, down to his ribs and belly button, then back up again, pausing by his nipples for a moment and tracing a circle around them, noticing that they responded in a similar way as her own would do. She even noticed that Rumple seemed to bite his lip as well, and when she pulled him closer to kiss him, he could not believe she still did this with as much passion as before – perhaps even more.  
He was unable to embrace her while he held onto his private parts, terrified she would get scared if he did not cover them, but that did not mean he did not try to put all his passion into their kisses, and as he felt Belle smile against his lips, he did the same.  
“Would you like to see me as well?” she asked teasingly, and another jolt of pleasure caused his member to grow a little harder. He knew that the honest answer was ‘yes’.  
“Only if you want me to see you,” he whispered, not wanting to push her in any way, and she nodded eagerly as she slowly dropped the thin nightgown to the floor, standing in front of him wearing nothing but a small corset, some underpants and stockings.  
He licked his lips as he looked at her – hardly realizing he was doing that, and she said: “Feel free to undress me, husband… I am yours now, after all.”  
It were those words that caused him to go fully erect – and perhaps it weren’t just the words that were to blame, but also the way in which she had said them. She wasn’t just beautiful – she was sexy and playful as well, and he whispered: “Close your eyes then…”  
She obeyed him without a second of hesitation, her head tilted as she wondered what he would do first, and as he let go of his erect member, he slowly brought his fingertips to her corset, tracing the lining in front, appreciating the craftsmanship, but mostly the way that it fit to her form. Her breasts looked so round and soft, and he had to admit to himself that he would love to squeeze them, to feel if they were firm or soft, and so he decided to undo the corset first.  
He knew there were laces in the back, but there seemed to be hooks and needles at the front, and this confused him a little.  
“Do I open it at the front or at the back?” he asked gently.  
“Both,” she said softly, still keeping her eyes closed. “Make it looser with the laces in the back, then it will open a lot easier at the front.”  
He carefully took her by the hips and instructed her to turn around, which she did without any hesitation, and he whispered: “You can open your eyes now, if you like…”  
She did open them, staring at the bed in front of them, wondering how long it would take before they would return to it. Her knees were growing a bit weak, and she could feel herself throbbing already – and he had hardly even touched her. Was that even normal or was she easily excited?  
She wasn’t going to complain, and turned her head a little, though not enough to look at him.  
As he slowly began to undo the laces at the back, she bit her lip, and it was then that she remembered Mulan’s advice to keep breathing – though perhaps she had not meant at that precise moment, but she still tried to take her words to heart.  
When he was done loosening the laces at the back, he wrapped his arms around her, trying to undo it at the front, but he had not expected Belle to lean back against him, and he gasped as his erection was pressed between his stomach and her corset, fearing for a moment that he looked foolish, but as Belle looked up at him, he tried to smile it away.  
“You alright, husband?” she asked gently, and he nodded with a grin on his face.  
“I am… You startled me, my wife…”  
She chuckled. “Apologies. Please continue.”  
As he had his arms wrapped around her and opened up her corset at the front, he looked down over her shoulder, biting his lip as he looked at her bosom. He could not resist the idea of touching her breasts and carefully dropped her corset to the floor before he let his hands move over them, surprised by how firm yet soft they were at the same time, and as he gently massaged them, he noticed how Belle closed her eyes and leaned into him once more, but this time she was aware of his erect member in her back and her eyes flew open for a moment.  
He held his breath, afraid she would be frightened, but instead she looked up at him, winked and said: “Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?”  
As he tried not to double-up from laughter, she giggled as well, proudly adding: “I heard that one at the saloon!”  
He could not believe it, and laughed: “I never thought you’d say such a thing to me,” he admitted.  
As they both stood there giggling and laughing, they had turned the moment into a silly one, and when Belle turned around and looked down at his erection, he hardly realized it until she was touching it, wrapping her fingers around him so curiously and suddenly that he could not help but gasp and hiss, wondering why she was so straight-forward, but not daring to say anything for now.  
“I like this,” she admitted with a blush, smiling mischievously. “Never had one of those to play with…” She winked at him, and as he bit his lip, she stood up on her toes to kiss him briefly.  
While he was still hungry for more of her kisses, she sat back down on the bed, beckoning for him to join her, and he shyly crawled towards her on his knees, laying down next to her, no longer minding her gaze as much, though it was strange to be so watched and vulnerable.  
He gently caressed her skin, letting his fingers ghost over her arms and hip, tickling her stomach to see how she’d respond, only to realize that even though she was laughing, she was a clever minx as well, and as she tickled him back he nearly doubled up with laughter.  
For some reason, the laughter only seemed to make her more eager to kiss him, and as her kisses grew more urgent, he tightly held her in his arms, squeezing her close to him, wanting to feel as much of her body against his as was physically possible.  
They kissed and hugged and laughed and sighed and touched each other all over, like the other’s body was now just as much their own, and there was no pressure to do one thing or another, just the liberty of trying things and watching the other to see if they enjoyed it.  
Rumplestiltskin finally removed Belle’s stockings and her underpants as well, and as she bit her lip as she looked at him, he asked: “Do you want to try it?”  
She shrugged, smiling mischievously, and replied: “Don’t you?”  
He shrugged as well, trying to be as casual about it as she was, even if his nerves were anything but quiet: “I’m perfectly happy with you, regardless of what happens now.”  
He let his hand rest on her bum for a moment, watching the patch of curls between her legs as it covered up the area he knew hardly anything about, and as he looked at it, Belle wondered if he was as curious about her as she had been about him. As she slightly opened her legs for him, she noticed how he quickly glanced away again, his cheeks burning up from excitement.  
“You are allowed to watch, you know,” she said softly. “I’d prefer to keep all thoughts of what is decent or not outside the bedroom. I’m yours, and you are mine. And if I dislike something, I will tell you, but I don’t mind you watching me.”  
He could not help but wonder if she had learned these little wisdoms from the women at the brothel, or if this was just the way his Belle thought. The more she spoke, the more he loved her, and as he gently moved to lay over her, he placed a soft kiss on her lips, which she returned just as sweetly.  
When all of his weight rested on her, she chuckled. “You’re warm,” she said softly, carefully rubbing her own nose against his, and he smiled.  
“Not too heavy?” he checked, and he was relieved to see her shake her head.  
“No, not at all,” she assured him, secretly wondering if he was going to make a move soon.  
“Are you sure about this?” he asked a little anxiously, and Belle narrowed her eyes.  
“Are you?” she asked in return. “I am sure about this – and I think I’m ready. But are you?”  
His lip trembled as she asked him those questions, and he gulped anxiously. Belle moved her hand to his cheek in an attempt to comfort him and whispered: “You don’t have to be afraid, sweet husband. Enjoy yourself… We have both earned some fun.”  
He actually smiled at her words, and as he kissed her lips to show her how much he appreciated her attempt to comfort him, he shifted his weight to his knees, surprised to notice that Belle was already opening her legs wider for him as he held himself in his hand, looking down at her to figure out how to enter her precisely.  
As he let his tip stroke alongside her lower lips, he was surprised to hear her hum in approval. He slowly guided himself over those lips a few times, noticing how wet she was – and how wet he was getting as well at the thought of consuming their marriage.  
He remained hesitant for a few minutes, just teasing her by moving over her slit – hardly realizing how he was teasing her clitoris too in that way – and when he had figured out where to enter her, he started prodding her, a little anxious about how tight she was.  
She was breathing calmly though – so calmly that he feared he wasn’t exciting her very much at all, but she smiled encouragingly at him. “You can push a little harder,” she assured him. “I want to feel you inside of me.”  
Nervous as he was, those words did boost his confidence, and he started pushing in, watching how the tip of his member disappeared completely inside her, to which she remarked: “Wow… That’s… Are you inside me already?”  
“Just a bit,” he said softly, his cheeks red from excitement, enjoying the feeling very much already and trying to keep full control over his actions. Part of him wanted to abandon thought and surrender to his lust, but he would not do that to his Belle.  
“A bit?!” she repeated in slight shock. “Feels like you’re completely inside of me.”  
He chuckled, which she felt inside her and caused her to moan slightly.  
“I’ll pull out for a moment,” he decided, moving as slowly out of her as he had entered her, and he was glad to see there was no blood yet. “Are you alright?” he checked, and she smiled eagerly.  
“I am,” she replied honestly. “I’m excited. Can you try again?”  
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and he nodded quickly, glad to make her happy in this way.  
As he pushed in his tip again – a little quicker than before – he pulled it back nearly immediately before gently pushing back in. With small thrusts, he was letting her get acquainted to him, and though it hit some of his nerves, it wasn’t like he was close to coming yet.  
She was relaxing completely underneath him, her breathing steady and her eyes closed as she was getting used to it, and as he could not spot any discomfort on her face, he gently began to push in a little further, surprised by how wet she was for him, and it wasn’t until he was nearly completely inside of her that he spotted some discomfort in her expression.  
“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone worried and he stopped his moving inside of her, but that did not make it better for her.  
“Keep on moving,” she encouraged him. “I’m enjoying it, but I’m also a little sore.”  
“I can stop,” he assured her nervously, but she quickly shook her head.  
“No, don’t, keep on going,” she replied, opening her eyes to look at him, and she put her hands on his shoulder to pull him closer, until he was laying on top of her, still inside of her, gently bucking his hips against hers as she spread her legs as wide as she could, trying to accommodate him.  
The sensation of her walls squeezing him so tightly was becoming too much for him to bare, and he moaned softly as he moved against her, not even noticing Belle’s curious gaze as he lost himself in her, continuing his movements and trying to ignore the voice inside himself that was urging him to go faster and harder. He knew he shouldn’t, but his instinct would not be silenced, and so it was agony to be so careful.  
He kept the slow and steady pace for a good while, sweat on his brow as it was rather intense and he felt quite hot, and he was glad to hear his young wife hum and moan in approval.  
“I never knew it took this long,” she admitted, panting a little underneath him. “I thought it would be over much quicker.”  
Once more he felt anxieties return and he replied carefully: “Is… is it bad?”  
She immediately shook her head. “No, no, definitely not bad. Just unexpected. I like it, but it must be tiring for you too.”  
“A little,” he admitted, his gentle thrusts even slower than before now. “But I’m afraid of hurting you…”  
Those words got her attention, and she suddenly wondered: “Are you holding back on my behalf?”  
He nodded nervously, and was surprised to hear her laugh.  
“Oh, sweet husband,” she said warmly. “You are too kind for me. But please, enough holding back now. Feel free to end it for tonight, for I don’t know how much longer I can continue like this.”  
He still hesitated, but as it was her own request to make it come to an end, he thrust a little harder that time, noticing the shock and surprise on her face as he did so, but reading no obvious discomfort yet. He did it again, and another time, and noticed how she clung to his shoulders, trying to support herself as his thrusts now made the bed creak from the sudden movements.  
“Yes, Rumple,” she whispered as she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation within. “More… More, please.”  
Her breathing became irregular as he thrusted in faster and faster, and her moans joined his own as he felt his release approach. She was so tight and wet, and the sounds she made were driving him wild. His wife was everything he could have wanted, so beautiful and hot and more than he ever could have hoped for. She was beauty itself, and she was his to claim, his to bed and woo, and his to protect and serve. And he would – he would do everything she desired. She was his princess – his queen – and he nothing but the servant, graced by her good company.  
He wanted to come more than anything, but suddenly stopped his thrusts as he hoarsely asked: “Have you come yet, my queen?”  
Belle didn’t seem as surprised by the question as she was by the way he had addressed her, and she could not help but giggle slightly. “Not yet,” she replied, sounding a little out of breath.  
“How…” he asked, the urge to continue very big, but he wanted to do this right. “How can I make you come before I do myself?”  
She bit her lip as she looked at him, his clueless expression quite endearing to her, and as she brought her own hand to her own clit, she whispered: “Let me help with that. Continue.”  
As he picked up on a slower pace again, he noticed how she was rubbing herself, and he wondered how that all worked as he increased the speed of his thrusts, hearing the need in her moans. It was clear that she wanted to come, and as she suddenly urged him to go faster, he immediately picked up the pace again, so fast that all she was able to cry out was the word “Yes!”, perhaps a dozen times before she suddenly moaned in pleasure, and he hardly knew what was happening when he felt her walls clench around him, nearly pushing him completely over the edge himself. It was now or never, he knew, and he thrust in harder than before, the sound of her ecstatic cries in his ears enough to bring out that deepest feeling of bliss as he spilled his seeds inside of her, joining her moans with his own, holding her as tightly in his arms as he could while he thrust in a few final times, shuddering when the last of his seeds had been spilled, and almost collapsing on top of her, his breathing heavy as he rested his head besides hers.  
She seemed to come to her senses first, and he noticed how she gently moved his hair from before his eyes, putting his hair back in place behind his ears so she could look at him.  
As he looked at her with nothing but gratitude, she smiled warmly. “Did that please my king?” she asked hopefully, and he was so exhausted that he could only nod, for all words seemed lost to him in that moment. But a faint smile did spread across his face as he realized what she had called him.  
He had never been a king to anyone, and would not have considered himself such – only as a servant – but perhaps she was right. Perhaps they were equals now. Perhaps, if she was a queen, he could be a king.  
“I love you,” he whispered, overcome by so many emotions at the same time, but all of them good ones, thanks to her.  
Belle seemed surprised to hear him say that, but her surprised expression immediately made way for a warm and grateful one, and she nodded. “I love you too, Rumple.”  
They kissed once more, gentle and sweet and passionate all at the same time, and as he slid himself out of her, they both shuddered for a moment, and when they noticed how they both responded in the same way, they chuckled about that, before meeting each other for yet another kiss.  
As he finally rolled off her, she was quick to join him in his arms, the blankets warmly around them as Belle suddenly froze in his arms for a moment and muttered: “Oh dear… I think I’m leaking or something.”  
Realizing how he was rather sticky himself down there, he quickly opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a small towel, handing it to her so she could clean herself up a bit, and he muttered: “Should we change the sheets?”  
She laughed. “Not right now, I’d say… But perhaps we could go to my bedroom instead? There’s a bit of a wet spot here now.”  
He put his hand down beneath her bum to feel the sheets, and was a little surprised about how right she was about that.  
“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly, and she laughed.  
“Let’s just go to the other room then,” she suggested.  
“Good plan,” he agreed, not going to force her to sleep like that. “I can clean up a bit too and join you. Want me to put on my nightgown again?”  
“Not unless you’re cold tonight,” she replied sweetly. “But I’d like to sleep in your arms without any clothes on, and would feel better if you would do the same.”  
“Then I will,” he happily agreed, a small smile on his face, glad she was this open about these things. He had honestly always believed women were more prude than this, but was glad to be mistaken. “Anything you want, my queen.”  
She kissed his lips. “My king,” she whispered with a smile. “My love… How happy you have made me.”  
“And you me,” he replied just as sincerely. “I will make you as happy for as long as you will have me.”  
“Forever then,” she replied without hesitation. “For the rest of our lives.”  
He smiled, resting his forehead against hers while he squeezed her hand. All insecurities of before were forgotten – at least for now – and he could not remember feeling this at peace ever before in his life. “Forever. You have my word.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the last chapter yet, but it's coming up. ;-) If there's something you really want me to address before the story's over, let me know in the comments!


	10. Chapter 10

They spent the night in Belle’s room, sleeping soundly in each other’s arms, waking a few times each time they realized something was different compared to all the nights before. It wasn’t like they were used to having a roommate – and it was even stranger that the person in their bed was holding onto the other as if their life depended on it. Yet the confusion never lasted long, as they each time realized that this was the person they married – and that this would be what each night could look like from now on. It was a calming thought, and so they were able to resume their sleep quickly each time they woke.  
The morning was just as pleasant as the night, and as they woke they cuddled close to each other for a few moments before Rumple realized he was going to go erect again if he did not stop touching Belle soon, and he quickly thought of an excuse to get dressed and get breakfast. Luckily, Belle did not ask questions and allowed him to go change in his own room while she changed in hers.  
Seeing each other fully clothed again was strange, and as they kissed in the hallway, it seemed like they were both eager to see the other person naked again – the sooner the better – for their hands seemed frustrated by all the fabric between their skins, and it was agony to break the kiss and head downstairs, especially while they were both still so eager to continue kissing and more.  
Though breakfast was pleasant, they both could not deny the tension between them and the lust in their gazes. Plans were made to head into town, but they did not make it further than the hallway, where their kisses would not come to an end until Rumple had loosened Belle’s corset again and she had opened up his vest and shirt. As she was placing teasing kisses against his chest and in his neck, he knew that he would not leave the house until his erection had been seen to, and they stumbled upstairs again, back to his bedroom, where they left their clothes on the floor to spend more quality time in bed, kissing and licking and teasing each other until they were united once more, this time with Belle on top of him, surprised by how quickly she reached her orgasm this way, but just as determined to make her husband see some stars as well.  
It was a most excellent way to spend a morning, mister Gold thought as his beautiful Belle rode him, his hands on her hips as he let his eyes wander all over her in the light of day – more than enough light to drink in each detail of her, even if the curtains of his bedroom were still closed.  
When he came that time, he was unaware of how Belle was watching him, studying him, and when he opened his eyes and saw her curious gaze, he felt a little watched, and he could not help but blush.  
“You’re beautiful,” Belle whispered before she gave him a sweet kiss and rolled off him, and he chuckled.  
“You are far more beautiful than I am,” he replied honestly. “So beautiful that I can’t help but wonder what I did to deserve you.”  
“You stole my heart,” Belle immediately noted. “That is what made you deserve me. That is why I give myself to you now. You have my heart – and I trust you with it, as I hope you trust me.”  
He had never trusted many people in his life, but he was unable to deny that Belle had his heart too. He would trust her – not just because it was expected of him now that they were married – but because he genuinely felt like his Belle would care for him, now and for the rest of their lives together.  
They kissed and cuddled and didn’t get out of bed again until it was nearly noon, joking about their honeymoon and how they would probably be at it again before the sun went down that evening. They both easily agreed on the fact that the other was hard to keep their hands off and eventually left their home in good spirits.  
As they headed towards town, Rumple once more remembered something he had asked nearly all previous days, and he softly offered: “Would you like to see your old place today? We could drop by on the way back.”  
Belle kept quiet for a few moments, shifting in her seat as her shoulders tensed, and she asked: “Why do you keep on asking me this?”  
He did not reply immediately, actually wondering himself why he kept on suggesting this. Some part of him believed it was the right thing to do, and he continued: “That place was your life for so long… You were torn so cruelly from there… I thought that perhaps it would be kind to go there with you again, to give you a chance to say a soft goodbye to it, instead of being ripped from it.”  
She was feeling a little nervous at the prospect of returning to her old home, but eventually she nodded. “Let’s go there now then,” she decided, afraid she’d change her mind if they waited, and she looked up at the sun above them. “Let’s go now that it’s still very much light and less likely to look depressing…”  
He nodded and led the horses onto one of the other roads, heading to the outskirts of Storybrooke again, this time to the place where once a lovely cottage had stood, far from all the others.  
As they reached the place they saw that what was left of Belle’s old house was black as coal, and while it had been a 2-story building, hardly any walls were left standing now.  
But though the house was a depressing sight, the garden around it was still very much alive, the vibrant colors of the flowers in sharp contrast with the darkness of the burned remains of the cottage.  
They remained seated on the carriage for a little while, Belle taking in the sight without a clear expression on her face, and Rumplestiltskin was wary as he kept an eye on his beloved wife, following her when she slowly stepped down the carriage, letting her assist him instead of the other way around as he got down as well and tried not to hurt his bum leg in the process.  
Belle let go of him once he stood firmly on the ground, and began to roam the gardens, touching some of the flowers here and there, and after only a few steps, she sobbed.  
Noticing that she was crying, her shoulders shaking a bit as she looked around, Rumplestiltskin quickly limped after her, gently taking her hand.  
“Talk to me,” he whispered. “Tell me which thoughts make you so sad…”  
“The flowers,” she cried, sniffing as she looked at him. “Papa always took such great care of them, and now they will all perish… This was his legacy, in a way, but what is to come of it now?”  
Rumplestiltskin listened attentively, but wasn’t sure if she was entirely right in what she said.  
“But… weren’t you his legacy too?” he proposed gently. “And these flowers… Can’t we move some of them? Like… I’m sure mister Dove would be able to repot some. He’s not bad with plants. Not as good as your father, I imagine, but he has a green thumb. I could let him come here and see if he could save some of the flowers, plant them around our house?”  
Belle looked at him with a hopeful gaze. “Do you think he could do that?” she asked breathlessly. “I used to have books on that – though I did not know them by heart – oh I wish I still had them now…” Her mind was racing. “If I had those books, I could even look up what to look out for when replanting them. I must say I’m rather lost without them.”  
He squeezed her hand in an effort to console her, and he was surprised to see it work, for she smiled softly as she looked at him.  
“I could help mister Dove,” she even suggested. “I fear the house is a lost cause, but we can still save the garden, in a way. I’d like that.”  
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he encouraged her, wanting to support her in this, and as his eyes wandered to the ashes of the house again, so did hers, and they remained quiet as they stared at it.  
“About a week ago, part of me wished that I had perished as well in those flames,” she admitted quietly, as though she was ashamed of it.  
Part of him hardly found it surprising that she had had such thoughts, but he hoped she had put those thoughts behind her now – forever. Carefully, he enquired: “And now?”  
She turned her head and smiled sadly as she looked at him. “Now I am glad I survived, though I’m still sad father is gone. Part of me wonders though if I would have ever ended up with you, had he not died that night. Would I have been cooped up here forever? I had no real desire to leave him and was content with my books. But what would my life have looked like, if I had stayed here?”  
She seemed especially thoughtful and quiet as she gazed out over the ashes of her old home.  
“Perhaps we would have found each other regardless,” he thought quietly. “I hardly ever saw you whenever I came to pick up the rent – I mean… How many years had it been since I had last seen you face-to-face? Perhaps I would have dropped by one day, and you would have been reading in the garden, and I would have greeted you and I would have been stunned by your beauty…”  
He knew he would have been – just as she still stunned him each time he looked at her. Her beauty was without compare.  
“Perhaps I would have been intrigued by you, the mysterious and reserved landlord,” she continued gently, putting her hand in the crook of his arm as she stood beside him. “Perhaps I would have invited you for dinner. Papa probably would have talked your ears off about his garden, but I would have enquired about other things, about Storybrooke, about the world…”  
“And I could have offered to take you on my rounds for a day – to show you the entire town.”  
“Papa would have been terrified,” she continued sadly, laughing for a moment as she remembered her father’s irrational anxieties when it came to facing the rest of the world.  
“I would have promised him to take good care of you, to protect you with my own life,” he imagined, convinced that he truly would have, and as Belle remained quiet besides him, he added: “And I still promise that today. And I promise that I will love you and take care of you and give you everything you desire.”  
When he looked to his side, he noticed that there were tears in Belle’s eyes, and as she turned her head to look at him, she admitted hoarsely: “Papa would approve of that.”  
As more tears rolled down her cheeks, he turned towards her so he could embrace her, and they remained there for a little while longer, hugging and holding onto one another as Belle cried her heart out, allowing herself this moment to miss her father, even though she felt some kind of peace as well – peace because she knew her father would approve of her happiness now.  
Mister Gold kept to his word, and in the days that followed, mister Dove started moving the flowers to their own gardens, to Belle’s delight. She personally saw to it that every flower received a special place on their domain, and planted some flowers around their house, and several others around mister Dove’s and Jefferson and Grace’s cottages.  
On Sundays, they all spent the afternoon together, and while mister Dove seemed too massive to fit in the dining room, he was surprisingly easy as a guest, sitting down when he entered and not getting up a single time, while Jefferson was quite the opposite, never sitting still and popping in and out of the kitchen to see what was cooking and asking if he could help in any way.  
Grace was still eager to help, though she also noticed that Belle had started taking over quite a few of her daily tasks, and she asked if it was alright to go with her father a few days a week, to learn to sew as well, and to help him out in his shop, something which mister Gold could only encourage.  
The evening was spent with Belle reading in front of the fireplace, while Grace and the men listened to the story, the windows open and a gentle evening breeze warming their spirits while the fire in the hearth kept the rest of them warm, and when they said goodnight at the end of the evening, Belle could only express her love for that day.  
“If only father could have been here,” she said softly. “He would have loved this too, and I enjoyed it so much. Everyone is so wonderful.”  
That evening, for the first time since their marriage, they did not engage in any foreplay or intercourse, but they simply talked as they lay in bed with one another, talking about Grace and Jefferson and Dove and their own lives and future.  
“And children?” Belle enquired softly. “Would you like to have some?”  
“I doubt we have anything to say about that,” he replied gently. “Nature finds its way with those things…”  
“Did you never consider getting any?” she wondered curiously.  
“I personally thought I would die a virgin,” he admitted sheepishly. “I had not allowed myself to think that far ahead.”  
“Not even when you were with that other woman?” Belle asked carefully.  
Rumple seemed a bit uneasy by that question and pulled up his nose a bit, but as he hesitated, he admitted: “I did consider it when I thought she loved me… And I was excited by the idea then…”  
“And now?” Belle wondered, hoping he had not lost his appetite for such a life yet.  
He offered her a reassuring smile. “Now I hope first and foremost that we can be happy, Belle. With or without children. I will feel blessed if ever you carry a child – but I also feel blessed with no one but you by my side. I’m happy right now – perfectly content, even.”  
Belle realized that perhaps she was being too quick with her questions. There was no rush when they had the rest of their lives together left, and she took a deep breath as she smiled at him.  
“As am I,” she assured him in return. “Children or no children, I am happy to be with you.”  
As he opened his arms to her, she crawled closer against him, closing her eyes as she inhaled his scent, wondering when his arms had started to feel like home.  
It was clear to all that the Golds were as happy as could be, and while this brought pleasure to the likes of Emma, Red, Mulan, Aurora and Philip, many other people in Storybrooke did not share that sentiment. The jealousy in Storybrooke remained, and those that could not understand how Belle and mister Gold could love each other, could only envy the way in which those two seemed to share their happiness with one another.  
Belle and Rumple weren’t completely immune to the stares of their fellow townsmen, but did not let that deter them. They still walked arm in arm as they crossed Main Street and visited Granny’s or The Sleeping Beauty Inn a few times a week.  
“They’re looking again,” Belle muttered as she finished up her stew at Granny’s, and she saw that her husband shifted in his seat.  
It had been about three months since they had married now, but they were still quite the buzz in town.  
“Mister Clark you mean?” Rumple muttered in reply.  
“Yes, and Leroy or whatever he’s called.”  
As Red came by their table, she asked politely: “Anything the two of you need?”  
Belle patted the seat next to her, and encouraged Red to sit with them, which she did without hesitation.  
“Out of curiosity, Red… Do you know why some people – like Mister Clark and Leroy - seem so obsessed with us? It’s like they’re constantly watching us, analyzing our every move.”  
Red cleared her throat a little nervously, wondering how to bring this.  
“Well… There are still some that think you only married mister Gold for money – and that that’s it.”  
Both Belle and Rumple were insulted, and Belle seemed upset.  
“Well, that’s not true,” she said stubbornly.  
“I know,” Red assured them. “It’s just that people doubt that the two of you have a normal marriage. You know… with sex and such.”  
Now it was mister Gold who was insulted, and he balled his fists on the table, trying to bite his tongue for as long as he could. He knew that not everyone was convinced of his masculinity, but his marriage to Belle had really boosted his ego for that part. He felt more like a man than ever before, and his lust to fight those that said the opposite only grew as he listened to Red’s words.  
“Well then,” Belle muttered, also feeling insulted. “I can’t let those rumors stand. Is my old room here still empty?”  
Red frowned, confused about why Belle asked that. “Yeah, but why?”  
As Belle got up from her chair, she looked more frustrated than ever, and her gaze was stern as she looked at Rumple.  
“Let’s go husband, up the stairs. If we fuck upstairs, I’d like to see them spread more lies that I would not have sex with you.”  
Rumple sat paralyzed in his seat for a moment, wondering if she was truly serious, but she did not budge.  
For a few moments he wasn’t sure what to think, but when he suddenly saw a playful twinkle in Belle’s eyes, he felt an excited twitch in his stomach and he grinned in return.  
“Yes, my wife,” he said with an obedient bow and he immediately got up from his seat, leaning heavily on his cane. “Please do tell Granny I will pay for the costs of the room for a night…,” he continued as he looked at Red. “But I simply cannot wait until I get home to ravish my beautiful wife.”  
Red chuckled, shaking her head as she cleaned the table after them.  
“By all means,” she encouraged them. “Have at it. Just a warning though, that bed is quite creaky. It’s Lily’s old one – she switched it with yours last month.”  
“I see no problem with that,” Belle said stubbornly, not taking her eyes off her husband.  
“It will probably be noisy,” Red continued.  
“Oh, we’re counting on it,” Belle said defiantly, taking her husband’s hand as she led him towards the stairs, and she knew that the eyes of plenty of men were on her, just like so many woman were looking at mister Gold, who held his head high and looked around him as though he owned the place – which he technically did.  
It wasn’t until they were in Belle’s old crib, with the door closed behind them, that they broke character and started giggling.  
“Are you really serious about this?” Rumple asked incredulously, but with a grin on his face that he could not wipe away.  
Belle was chuckling in amusement. “Terribly serious,” she joked.  
“Well, I must admit I did plan on ravishing you tonight, my dear,” he said while rolling his r’s, his accent as thick as ever as he wrapped his arms around her. “Why wait, eh?”  
“How dare they even think I wouldn’t sleep with you,” she muttered, clearly insulted. “You are by far the sexiest man in this town.”  
“And I doubt there are many women in this town with a healthier appetite for sex than you, sweetheart,” he added, letting his hands roam over her waist and back as he looked at her with an appreciative gaze.  
As Belle looked at the bed, she noticed that the sheets were missing, and she stepped away from her husband to make the bed while he slowly started undressing, taking off his cravat, shoes, pants, vest and shirt until he was standing in nothing but his underwear, then lit a few candles on the racks and closed the curtains before he sat down on the bed while Belle started undressing as well. The bed was already creaking, and as he moved about on it, he raised his eyebrows.  
“They weren’t exaggerating about this bed,” he muttered. “Noisy little bugger.”  
As Belle took off her dress and underwear, she moved onto the bed as well, completely naked while Rumplestiltskin looked at her in approval.  
“My beautiful wife,” he muttered as he let his hands roam over her body, one hand disappearing between her legs to tease her most sensitive spot, and she sighed full of lust as she opened her legs a little wider for him, allowing him to play with her until she was satisfied.  
He had certainly learned a great deal about pleasing her in the months they had been married. He had hardly understood anything about female anatomy their first time together, but due to his patience and curiosity he now seemed to know her better than she even did herself.  
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured in her ear, full of approval as he let a finger slide inside her, noticing how she was moving against his hand, looking for some form of release, but he was not going to give it to her just yet.  
“I must have you,” she muttered impatiently, knowing that he was just teasing her, and she quickly unbuttoned his underpants, reaching for his member to get him as hot and bothered as she was, and with a few knowing strokes and teases, he was soon completely hard in her hand, his precum already wetting her fingertips before she pulled off his pants completely, the noise the bed made while she took off his underpants rather disproportionate to their movements.  
“This bed sounds cursed,” Rumplestiltskin muttered dryly, and Belle chuckled.  
“It must have suffered a lot under the weight of so many couples making love,” Belle added.  
“I’d say we make it suffer one more time,” he continued, pulling Belle on top of him as he guided his member inside her, not taking his eyes off hers as he entered her, and he could not deny the thrill he felt from seeing Belle’s expression, daring him to continue.  
With each thrust, the bed creaked, and though he was a little cautious at first, he noticed that Belle did not mind, rocking along with him.  
“I bet we can make more noise than this,” she challenged him, her body in perfect sync with his, her curves only adding to his desire as she rocked her hips against him.  
“Oh, yes...” he accepted her challenge, kissing her passionately for a moment before he threw her besides him, then covered her with his own body, wasting no time to enter her and continue his thrusting, harder and louder than before.  
She moaned in approval and he soon joined her with moans of his own, though they weren’t as loud as the bed itself was.  
“Faster,” she encouraged him. “Harder!”  
He obeyed her, the bed itself moving along with them, shaking as it stood there, almost as though it was falling apart.  
After a few minutes, Belle flipped him over again, riding him as fast as she could, their hips rocking so hard against one another that Rumple was starting to pant.  
“Almost…” he muttered, trying to hold off his climax until Belle had come as well.  
Belle went even harder and faster, hoping to reach her climax before he did, but startled when the foot of the bed suddenly fell apart, the base of the bed disjoining from the head and foot of the bed, slamming loudly to the floor while Belle and Rumplestiltskin held onto each other, rather surprised they had wrecked the bed, but Belle wasted no time in getting to her climax – it was now or never, and as she rode herself to that much-desired bliss, Rumplestiltskin was soon to follow, the two of them still moaning in approval when a knock on the door could be heard.  
“Belle, mister Gold? Are the two of you alright?” Red’s voice sounded, and before Belle could reply, she saw how Rumple put his index finger against his own lip as a sign for her to remain quiet, and he tightly held onto her waist, glad her hair covered her bosom as the door opened and Red peeked in, her eyes wide as she saw Belle – still atop of her husband – in the broken ruins of Lily’s old bed.  
Behind Red were Leroy and mister Clark, who had been too curious to remain seated, and were now gazing at the naked couple with wide, incredulous eyes.  
“Ah yes,” mister Gold said casually, as though he was as fully clothed as ever, and he found it amusing how everybody else seemed to be more ashamed than he and Belle were themselves. “I’m afraid the bed is a complete loss. Mister Clark, won’t you order a new one and put it on my tab? Do tell Granny I will see to it the bed gets replaced, Red.”  
“Of course,” Red muttered, shooting Belle an incredulous gaze, but Belle merely shrugged, grinning in amusement as Red closed the door behind her again, and as Belle and Rumple looked at one another, they started giggling once more.  
“That was amazing,” she admitted in awe, and he sat up to kiss her lips, wrapping her tightly in his arms.  
“You were amazing,” he praised her. “My Queen – My Goddess… Did you see the looks on their faces?”  
“I can’t help but wonder what rumors they’ll spread about us next…” Belle admitted, though she didn’t sound particularly worried.  
“That you’re a sex goddess, probably, and that I don’t deserve one as beautiful as young as yourself.”  
Belle shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You totally deserve me,” she said stubbornly. “In fact, if you would be so kind as to make me come a few more times, I’ll make sure they can all hear that too.”  
Mister Gold raised his eyebrows, completely intrigued by those words. “Are you sure about that, sweetheart?” he asked, making sure she was completely serious about it.  
“Absolutely positive,” she replied. “I’ll be loud, I promise. And open the window. It’s about time these non-believers knew what we are about.”  
“Amazing sex?” Rumplestiltskin suggested sheepishly, and this made Belle chuckle.  
“That, too. But mostly… a strong marriage. Stronger than their gossip.”  
As he moved a hand between her legs again, he was aware how she was dripping wet with his own cum, but that was only good considering how he wanted to please her next, and as he started to rub her to another climax, she grinned, a look he soon returned to her.  
The jealousy of the town towards their marriage wasn’t as much a curse as it was a blessing, he realized. He’d make her moan in satisfaction all night long, if that would give the rest of town something to gossip about. He truly didn’t care. As long as he was with his Belle, as long as she loved him like he did her, the rest of the world didn’t matter.  
They were welcome to gossip all they wanted. It would not destroy their happiness – in fact, this night was proving to be more fun than he could have anticipated. Perhaps he could arrange with Granny that all old beds would be moved to this room – one by one – for himself and Belle to wreck and for all the town to hear? It was certainly a fun way to spend the night, and as Belle reached another climax, crying out his name, he realized that she was as unlikely as him to complain about it.  
“Satisfied?” he asked sweetly, looking into her eyes, and she nodded sheepishly, her eyes half-lidded as she was still high on her arousal.  
“Completely?” he checked, and as she smiled teasingly he realized he would have some more work to do that night. He truly didn’t mind. She deserved all the pleasure he could give her, and would serve her until the end of his days.  
“I thought not,” he said with a chuckle. “Good for you we have this room until morning, my Queen. Now lay down, you need a little bit of rest if you want to be ready for the next wave of pleasure that I am about to bring you…”  
Belle turned onto her back and smiled, humming to herself as her husband began to kiss her neck and bosom, and she was perfectly content, even while she heard the noise of the people in the saloon below them talk and laugh.  
She figured that this wasn’t bad at all. As much as she had tried to steer away from a life of prostitution, she could live with the thought of bedding Rumplestiltskin in a saloon for the rest of her life. Her husband was pretty amazing, and she considered herself lucky as he went down on her, cleaning her up with a towel before he started teasing her with his tongue, and she watched how he was intent on making her cry out his name at least a dozen times more before the night was over.  
She could definitely get used to this. 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support during the posting of this fic! Sorry for taking so much longer than I had originally anticipated.  
> Dreatine, I hope you are pleased with the story! :-) It was fun being your Santa! 
> 
> For those of you who are wondering, her original prompt was "Storybrooke jealous of Rumbelle marriage" - and when I learned she liked the Western time period of Doctor Quinn and such, I decided to set the story in that era, even if it is something I was very unfamiliar with as a European. (We don't learn about the wild west in school.)
> 
> I do hope you all enjoyed the tale, and would like to direct you to my other fanfictions. I will be continuing The Princess and the Knight as soon as possible - I kind of set it to the side while I was working on this fic the past months. Other than that, I'd also like to encourage you to read "Heart of the Ship", since it's the fic I am most proud of, a fic which is much longer than all of the others. 
> 
> Once more a warm thank you for all the lovely comments and hope to see you around!


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